


Markiplier: REBOOT

by thehoundandthebird



Category: Markiplier (YouTube RPF), markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Bar Scene, Cincinnati, F/M, Ohio, Romance, markiplier: REBOOT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehoundandthebird/pseuds/thehoundandthebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a young woman falls in love with a well beloved YouTuber, the last thing she would expect would be to meet him. In this case, young 21 year-old Sarah O'Callaghan found him rather "sick" in the ladies' room of her bar. The last thing she expected, however, was to find that his life was a mess again. Wanting help, Mark accepts Sarah's offer to get him back on his feet.   </p>
<p>Sarah helps Mark build up his life back up again, brick by brick. The duo form a close friendship that eventually blossoms into more. But when the past rears its ugly head, will the trust that was built through good times and bad be enough to keep what's been a hard earned and well deserved companionship from crashing down? Or will it tear them apart for good?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my pretties,  
> I am indeed EliseB-HPhilClark from WattPad.com and I am just moving one of my top stories to this website. Hope you can enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

MARKIPLIER:  
REBOOT

Prologue: 

I remember the first time I watched an Amnesia Custom Story Let’s Play on YouTube. I recall staring at the link my friend Evee had posted on my Facebook wall and wondered if the video was as funny as she led it on to be. If there was one thing I wasn’t particularly fond of was horror. I hated jump scares, I hated loud screeching noises and I disliked the fear oriented adrenaline that it sent coursing through my veins. 

I hate being scared in general, to be quite honest. 

So, naturally, it came as a shock to me when I clicked the link and found myself laughing, just as my friend said I would. Although I was scared whenever all the monsters were “hunting” the Aussie Let’s Player, the commentary was hilarious and I found that I was rather enjoying myself.

Soon after the video came to an end, I was searching through more Amnesia Let’s Play videos. A lot of them were complete bollocks; dull and very slowly paced. Others were rather humorous. I especially liked the two reaction compilations I found: The first had a series of different clips from a variety of gamers and played one of my all time favourite orchestral “horror” songs as its soundtrack—In the Hall of the Mountain King by Edvard Grieg. And, saving the best for last, I found a reaction compilation made by a YouTuber by the name of Markiplier. 

To put plainly, he was so funny I almost pissed myself laughing. His scream very much resembled that of Homer Simpson and to watch as his large ego dissipate almost immediately whenever he was around or running away from monsters (which, in this game, you cannot kill) always gave me a kick. At first, he would be like, “I’m so strong, so tough!” and seconds later, he would hear the sound of a grunt nearby and any semblance of bravery would dissipate as he ran away screaming like a giant man child, yelling, “I’m not tough! I’m not tough! (Garbled scream)”, at the top of his lungs.

Soon after the ten minute video was over, and I had finished my laughing fit, I checked out his channel and he had only about a few hundred subscribers. Wanting to be kept up to date with Markiplier “kicking the butt of many-a monster”, I hit the subscribe button.

A few months passed and I had managed to watch the entire “Amnesia: The Dark Descent”. It took me a while, as I had work to do and school to worry about. I then carried on to watching his Amnesia Custom Story Let’s Plays. He was as manly and egotistic as ever and his hilarity continued to grow exponentially, along with his fame. Unfortunately, his account was closed for reasons he never divulged. However, that didn’t stop him! He started up a new channel on YouTube and many of his previous subscribers found his new channel and share his story with all of their friends. 

Markiplier's original 5000 had subscribed to his new channel within a day or so of his vlog, and a some of this followers went above and beyond the call of duty. To help boost Mark's signal, they liked every one of his re-uploaded videos as well as watched them all. Mark was so overwhelmed with the support he had from his fans. I didn't get the chance to see his video until a week after he posted it. But I did what I could to help once I did, as well.

You see, I never really paid attention to his Vlogs until recently when he started becoming more and more popular. So, after watching a few of his more recent videos logs, I was curious as to why the channel, as well as his fans, meant so much to him. There’s always a story behind every person and I wanted to find out more about his.

I browsed through his Vlogs and found the video that described his reasoning to start a Let’s Play channel. I found his story rather moving. In one last year alone, Mark had been in a rather bad relationship, which had ended sourly. It resulted to him being kicked out of the home where he had lived with his significant other. He then later found out he had a tumour and his life seemed to be spiralling out of control. But when the tumor was gone and he finally began to pick himself up, he made his first channel to pass the time.

Once he had finished the first Let’s Play to its fullest, he made a reaction compilation and that’s where everything began to take off. The views exploded and it was one of the many reasons why he became so popular. And now that he has the means to do so, Mark does regular charity live streams to donate money to certain organizations. One was an organ donation website, and the other was Child’s Play. He's done many more since then, though I can't remember them. He was one of the few YouTubers that didn’t let the fame get to his head and with his renewed life, he gave back to the world in hopes to make a Child’s life, or any person’s life, easier. 

So, under all his ego lies a touching story and a big heart that wants to make a difference in the world. And, without really noticing it, without any warning whatsoever, I found myself falling for a YouTube Let's Player who wanted to make an impact on the people and world around him.


	2. An Unexpected Meeting

Episode 1: An Unexpected Meeting

It has been over a month since Markiplier posted his last video. Things were getting hard in his life and he announced that he was going to take a two week leave of absence from YouTube to sort things out. Two weeks came and went and there was no sign of any new activity on his channel. And then a month passed… and two more weeks passed and still nothing.

After every shift I worked at my bar, I would scurry upstairs to my apartment to turn on my laptop in anticipation for another video only to find nothing had been uploaded. Another week or so passed. I slowly stopped checking YouTube for more episodes up until the point where I was so disappointed that it hurt to check.

It's been a month since I touched my laptop and it would stay this way.  
***  
The sun was now filtering brightly through my drapes at 11am. I had spent the better part of my night tossing and turning since I retired at 3am. I went straight to bed after closing-- it had been a long night. Needless to say, I was lucky enough not to have graduated last year or I would’ve been royally screwed. There was still a mess for me to clean up downstairs. I ordered Tony and Cassie, my two employees, to leave early last night. They were dead on their feet by 2 Am.

With a heavy sigh and a quick glance at my clock, I finally found the strength to get out of bed. There was a daunting task ahead of me that needed my attention. I opened shop in approximately two hours and the last thing I wanted was a filthy bar to serve my customers in. It was Saturday, after all, and the university students wanted to get their party on early.

Without a single glance in the mirror, I did my hair up in a pony tail and slipped on a pair of slacks and a baggy t-shirt. If I was going to be cleaning for two hours, I might as well be comfortable doing so. After pulling on my worn out trainers, I meandered downstairs and locked the door behind me once I reached the main floor. I held my breath and counted to three before I decided to round the corner and confront the huge mess I know was left behind for me.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” I muttered to myself. “This is going to take longer than I thought.”

Nearly every table in the room was piled high with dirty glasses, mugs, shot glasses, and the like. Chicken wing filled bread baskets were decked with a few flies that had managed to live through autumn’s chills. It was a disaster area.

I looked towards the sky. “Lord, give me strength,” I prayed to a deity I didn’t believe in. I sauntered to the broom closet and grabbed a few rags, a mop and bucket, and some cleaning solutions. I could detect the pungent odor of puke hiding in a corner somewhere in the room. And I was on a mission to find it.

Clearing all the tables was most likely the easiest part of my day so far. I didn’t take too much effort and all I had to do was soak the dishes in hot, soapy water. I would wash them later. The harder parts involved washing down the tables, polishing them with an aerosol wax spray, and scrubbing the linoleum tile floors clean.

When I was done, I took a step back and admired my work as it glistened under the light filtering through the cracks in the blinds. Everything would’ve smelled fresh if it wasn’t for the elusive puddle of puke hiding somewhere in the bar. After searching every nook and cranny of the place and I still couldn’t find the mystery pile of human stomach acid.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips. I wondered where it could be hiding.

Contrary to popular belief, intoxicated people were very crafty. My bar once stank heavily of puke for a week and no matter where I searched, I couldn’t find it! Turns out, what I really believe to be a jar of grease from the fryers was really a jar of solidifying human stomach contents. Apparently one of the regulars thought he was hugging a toilet in the rest rooms but was really hugging the grease tub. Tony, a dear friend of mine and the bar’s cook, found him there while I was busy serving drinks. It was very busy at the time and I hadn't taken notice. Tony forgot all about throwing away the bucket of puke laced cooking grease when he was escorting the poor guy out the door.

Deciding to leave the puke case for last, I wandered over to the kitchen where I had left the giant piles of dishes, soaking in piping hot water and soap. Instead of scrubbing off the cooked on food, all I had to do was wipe them down with a cloth and leave them on the dryings racks for Tony to put away later.

The rhythm I had going while washing the dishes was a wonderful distraction. It kept my mind from wandering off to where I didn’t want it going. I felt as my hand would squeeze into a mug, twist it a couple of times, rinse, and put it on to a rack. I would grab a plate, scrub it twice on the front, thrice on the back, rinse, and put it on the rack. It was a good beat that carried on like a good rock song by Lynyrd Skynyrd… something with the beat that went along with Call Me the Breeze.

However, when I started to slowly drift away from the feeling of the methodical scrubbing, my mind would wander. On the best of days, my thoughts would drift to Mark. I always wondered how the beloved YouTuber was doing and what kept him from the very thing that kept him living and breathing when he had nothing; why he had given up on all he worked on and disappeared off the face of the Earth. And every time I thought about him and his whereabouts, a felt a painful pang in my heart. Every time I thought about him, my heart would break a little more.

How pathetic, right? I was lovesick and worried over someone I had never met before.

“Hey, Sarah,” I heard a familiar voice call to me. I didn’t answer. All the thinking was giving me a rather sharp pain in my chest. I was bent over the counter, clutching my chest and hoping the pain would subside.  
“Whoa, Sarah!” It was Tony. I felt a large, strong arm around my waist, supporting me, and it gently helped me to sit down. “Is it the same thing or someone else?” Tony asked once were both seated safely on the linoleum tiled floor. He knew what was going on. To my shame, this happened more often than naught.

I turned to him with pained, tear-filled eyes. “What do you think, TonTon?”

He looked into my eyes with a concerned look about his face. He held me close to him. “Sars, you really need to get over this guy,” he kissed my forehead. “This pain over a person you’ve never met before is unhealthy. You need to move on to someone that’s real and here, in the present—not some guy behind a computer screen.” He frowned and held me closer to him. “I’m worried about you.”

I sighed shakily. “I know you’re worried, Tony. So am I… but you can’t pick and choose who you care about, even if they're not someone you know personally. You know that better than anyone. What about Cassandra?” I met his gaze. “You’ve been separated for almost a year now and I still see you staring at her longingly as she waits on tables. That’s an unhealthy attachment, too, you know.”

“You noticed, huh?” Tony hung his head.

“Of course I did. Everyone notices, Ton,” I admitted quietly. “Well, those who bother to pay any attention know that you’re still mad for her.”

“But it’s not the same…” he said after a brief silence.

I regarded him, confused. “What isn’t the same?”

“Our situations aren’t, Sarah.”

“I don’t see how they’re any different.” I answered slowly. “We’re both love sick over someone—”

“It’s NOT the same!” he said firmly, suddenly very angry. “You’ve never met this Mark-what’s-his-face! You’ve never kissed him, hugged him or talked to him! You’ve never made love to him and I’m damn sure that the act he puts on during his videos are just that—ONLY acts. You don’t know what it’s like to stare at the person who is your world, who is the very fibre of your very being, who was in your life one day and gone the next. You don’t know any of that pain. We AREN’T the same.”

He removed his arm from around me and turned his shoulder to me. I stood and looked down at him through teary eyes. “I can’t believe you, Tony… I may have never kissed, hugged, or spoken to him before. I may not have made love to him, or anyone else before, but I’ve always wondered what it would be like to do all of that. But this pain I feel is quite real,” my voice began to rise slightly with every word I spoke. “I am pained because I know what it’s like to watch someone from afar and to never be noticed. I know what it’s like to long for someone and to have my feelings go unnoticed.” I took a step back and caught my breath. “So, if you really think about it, our situations are rather similar, aren’t they? We’re going unnoticed and this feeling of emptiness is very much real and for the same reasons. Maybe you should consider the facts before you make a verdict. We all know you jump to conclusions. You might want to be aware of what you want to say before you say it… or else you could lose me, too.”

There was a long pause. None of us exchanged a single syllable. But when he finally turned to face me, he looked deep in thought. He was trying to calm himself and he slumped his shoulders in defeart. Tony knew I was right and he wasn't going to argue the point. He wrung his hands for a moment and looked at me, an apologetic smirk about his face. “I guess you want me to dry the dishes, right?”

This was our non-direct way of saying ‘I’m sorry’.

I smiled and wiped my nose on my sleeve. “Yeah, I would appreciate it if you did. Oh, and if you put them away—neatly, might I add— that would be great. AND, before I forget, if you could so kindly tell me where last night’s puke incident occurred, you can have all the tips from tonight. That should help pay off some debt.”

Tony smiled to himself as he put a dried glass on to a tray. “Did you check the ceiling above tables 6 and 7?”

I raised a skeptical eyebrow his in his direction but peered out the door and around the side of the bar. Sure enough, there it was. I chuckled and turned towards Tony, who was holding back a laugh. “Hey,” I said light heartedly, “you learn something new every day! I guess drunks CAN hide their bodily fluids in plain sight… even if it's on the ceiling. Say, wanna clean it for me?”

He snorted. “Nope. Not in the job description, squirt. The fate of that ceiling tile is now in your hands, little hobbit.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed while I filled a bucket with hot water. “Just because you’re as freakishly tall as Treebeard doesn’t make me a Hobbit. I’m quite tall for a woman, you know.”

“Whatever you say, little Shire-ling,” he laughed, grumbling a little like Treebeard.

“Wish me luck, freak.”

“No, shan’t, short ass.”

I disappeared behind the double doors and set off to scrub the ceiling of all the cleverly placed vomit.  
***  
“Cassie!” I shouted across the noise of taking people.  
“What can I do for you, Sweetpea?” she answered, magically appearing beside me.

“Can you get these two lovely ladies Rusty Nails while I talk to an Indian about a blanket?” I asked, crossing my legs to keep my bladder from letting lose. “I’ll be back real quick. I promise!”

“Sure! I’m positive I can handle that,” she said with a radiant smile.

“Thanks, babe!” I kissed her on the cheek. “You’re a life saver!”

“I know. Now go take care of your business before you do it in front of everyone,” she added under her breath.

I smiled and took that as my queue to leave. I turned swiftly on my heels and headed in the direction of the lavatories.

“Wait, Sarah!” Cassie called after me. I turned to her and asked what she needed.

“What’s a Rusty Nail?”

“A shot of Scotch and a shots of Drambuie!” I answered quickly. “Got it?”

“Got it! Now, go!”

I sighed with relief as I unbuttoned my pants and sat down. You know that glorious sense of relief one gets while emptying their bladders? I was having one of those moments. I had been holding it off for about two hours, now. The bar was packed to the brim with people and I didn’t want to leave. But as soon as more and more people began to cram in, and when it felt like my bladder was going to burst, I left Cassie in charge for a bit.

Just as I was buttoning up my jeans, the bathroom door slammed open and I almost landed myself in the toilet bowl. Whoever it was, and judging by their unintelligible drunken slurs, I knew it wasn’t a woman. But when the stall door next to me slammed shut, and whoever it was began puking, I didn’t complain.

Once I managed to wiggle myself out of the toilet seat I knocked on the closed door, behind which the man was still vomiting profusely. By the sounds of it, he wasn’t doing very well at all. “Hey, buddy, you okay in there?” I questioned loud enough for the guy to hear over the sound of the vomiting.

It went silent for a moment and I thought the guy, whoever he was, had passed out. I was about to open the stall door when his deep voice stopped me. “Why would you give a fuck if I was ok or not?” came a flourish of slurred words. “Can’t a guy enjoying his liquor in peace?”

“Well, you gave me a start when you burst into the lady’s room. But when I heard you puking up an ocean, I thought that maybe I should be a decent human being and check on you,” I answered slowly, being careful to enunciate each word clearly. “You have a little bit too much to drink?”

“What kinda question is that?!” he complained in his drunken stupor. “Of course I had too much to fucking drink. You think I’d be puking in the woman’s washroom if I was sober? ‘Sides, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I can hold down my own liquor, thank you very much. Now, please do us both a favour and fuck off.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “If you could hold down your liquor I'm sure you wouldn't be puking. Besides, it’s our policy at the bar to ask intoxicated customers if they need assistance. If you’re going to be such a dick about it (I emphasize the word dick in such a way Markiplier himself would say it) I could leave you to wallow in a pile of your own filth for the rest of the night.”

After a long moment of silence, I was prepared to turn around and leave. He was acting like an ungrateful prick, anyway. He was drunk, though, and sometimes that means the worst of us is brought out. I should know that better than anyone. That was when the locking mechanism of the stall door clicked and the creeky hinges signaled it was being swung open. I took a step backwards out of the doorway leading out of the lavatory and allowed the door to swing shut before I turned around to see who was in a heap beside the toilet.

He was hunched over and his head was hung in such a way that I couldn’t see his face properly in the dim light of the washroom. The only thing that I could make out was his rectangular shaped glasses and the scruff that covered his cheek. He wore a navy blue, stained pea coat and blue jeans, which fitted him snuggly. He licked his lips and shifted his head towards my direction so he could (most likely) get a better look at me.

I could see him a lot better, now, and I regarded him as he did the same with me. His jaw was square and angular; very strong, his chocolate brown eyes danced with sadness and longing. Longing for what, I wasn’t sure of. But I was sure he wanted help.  
As I continued to drink him in, there was an air of familiarity about him. His brown eyes, the jaw, his short cropped hair, his voice… and slowly the realization of the situation struck me with the force of an oncoming transport truck. I could recognize him anywhere. It was the beloved YouTuber, Markiplier, sitting on the bathroom floor… Mark Fischbach was asking me for help. I shook my head. Any other person in his current state would be asking for my help. And that's all he was: Another regular Joe. However, I couldn't ignore my elevated heart rate. Part of me still had some feelings for him.

I took a deep breath and tried to keep the look of shock from my face. I took a step towards him, aware of the small puddles of stomach acid on the ground. My had reach into my apron for a clean cloth and took his face in my hand. The rag waved back and forth in front of his face. “May I clean your face up a bit?”

“Oh, piss,” he muttered. “I got some on my face, didn’t I?”

I smiled kindly as I wiped a smudge of liquor-laced stomach acid from his cheek. “You’re not looking too shabby, actually.” I reassured him. “You someone I can call to pick you up?”

“No,” he slurred miserably.

“Ok, perhaps I can call a cab. You got a place to stay? Your house, apartment… maybe a motel or hotel?”

He sniffed back a tear and covered it with a cough. “No to all of the above. I’ve made acquaintances with the bench out front.”

I bit my lip and finally met his eyes. I felt so small beside his large figure… and I felt bad for him in his current predicament. My eyes broke contact with his and I cleaned his face up. While cleaning off whatever bodily fluids were left, I thought about offering him a place to stay. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to offer anyone else in need of a place to stay in my home. Mark wasn’t any different and I wasn’t going to let him sleep in the cold of the early autumn night. I was hell-bound to help him.  
“What’re you thinking about?” I looked up into his eyes. His voice sounded less slurred and more genuinely curious.

Not sure how to respond, I said the first thing that came to mind, “Hmm?” Not very intelligible, I know, but it was a start.

“I may be drunk, loaded out of my fucking tree, but I can always tell when a person’s thinking.”

I licked my lips, which I did when nervous, and answered. “Just thinking about what to do with you tonight.”

“Look, I’m not looking to get laid—”

“No, no, no,” I said taken aback. “I wasn’t thinking about SLEEPING with you. I’m the owner of the place and I have an apartment upstairs. I was GOING to offer you to crash on the couch for the night instead of not having a place to stay.”

“Oh…” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, miss.”

“No worries,” I said with an encouraging smile. “It happens whenever I offer a customer a place for the night. They’re always of the opinion that I want to sleep with them. Either way, the offer still stands. You want to crash the night or sleep in the cold?”

“If it’s not too much trouble… I’ll take you up on that offer,” he said quietly. There was a little bit of reluctance in his voice. I looked back into his eyes and they, for the lack of better words, unwillingly asked for my help. It was like he was ashamed to ask.  
“Not at all,” I smiled. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

I balanced myself on the balls of my feet and reached my arm underneath him and around his waist. I swung his arm around my shoulder and used his momentum to hoist him up. Fuck, he was a big guy! He swayed a bit and I held him close to me, helping him to stabilize himself.

“Can you walk ok?” I asked, my voice strained under his weight.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Ok, let’s walk slowly out the door. We’re going to hang a left and walk up a short flight of stairs. Can you manage that?” He only nodded his head in response.

It took us nearly five minutes to get up the stairs. That had to have been the scariest minutes of my LIFE. He swayed a lot and my heart stopped regularly whenever I thought he was going to send us both toppling down the stairs. But he managed to catch the railing before anything bad happened. I had to give the man kudos—while under the influence, he still somehow managed to keep rather good control of his reflexes.

After a few minutes spent carefully rummaging my pockets, I found my keys and fumbled with the lock until I finally managed to get the deadbolt unlocked. I pushed the heavy door open and the two of us staggered into the living room. I put Mark carefully down on the couch and removed his death grip from around my shoulder. “ You're ok, buddy. I’ll be back with a few blankets and a pillow.”

“Mhmm,” was all he managed.

I walked off, disappeared around the corner and down the hallway towards my bedroom. I opened my linen closet and pulled out a fresh sheet and comforter. A fluffy pillow from my bedroom closet conveniently landed in my hand once I swung the door open. My feet then took me wandering back to the living room, heart pounding with anticipation of seeing him again… though this time, I wouldn’t be seeing him through a computer screen. That sent shivers running up and down my spine.

When I walked back into the room to find Mark was still in a sitting position. I half expected him to have passed out while away those short minutes. “Hey.” I said to announce my return. I set the blankets and pillow on the back of the couch. “I brought you a sheet and a warm comforter. Hope this pillow is to your liking.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?” I offered. “Any questions I can answer? Something I can get for you? It was utter chaos downstairs when I left so I should get back to my staff.”

There was a short pause before he spoke. “Actually, yeah.”

“Shoot,” I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms.

“First thing’s first: What in your right mind compels you to help and invite strangers your home?”

I licked my lips and stared at the ceiling for a moment, searching for an answer. “Honestly, there are plenty of people out there who are less fortunate that I am. I may not have a lot of money to spend on myself after business expenses, but when someone is in need, I am compelled to help them. Whether that be a place to stay or an extra meal, it's nice to give someone a hand...” I trailed off a moment and pondered what I was going to say next. “My mother was the same when I was younger—she would bring in  
strangers once and a while and provide them with a few dollars and a reservation at a local motel. If it hadn’t been for me in the apartment, she would’ve let them stay in the living room. She died when I was 18 and I’ve taken after her generosity for others.”

“Alright," he nodded mostly to himself, "and my last question,” he added quietly. “If it’s not too much, mind helping me taking off my jacket and t-shirt?” he asked, most likely feeling a little embarrassed to be asking someone to undress him.

“Sure.” I swallowed past a catch in my throat and took a seat beside him. Mark lifted his one arm lazily and I helped him wiggled one arm after the other out of his jacket. I set his coat aside on the armchair beside me, making a note to wash it later; it didn’t exactly smell pleasant. When I turned back towards him, I couldn’t help but notice how tightly his shirt clung to him, showing off his well sculpted body. I drank him all in for a moment before reaching out with hesitant hands towards the bottom of his shirt. The plan was to pull it over is head. Mark noticed this, too, and he lifted his arms as high as he could. I had to wiggle a little closer to him as I was having a hard time getting his shirt over his head.

When I finally managed to get it off, I noticed how closely approximated we were. His face was only inches from mine and a flutter of butterflies rose in my stomach. I slowly looked up into his molten chocolate brown eyes and noticed he had taken off his glasses. His eyes borred into mine… and his gaze shifted slowly back and forth from my eyes to my lips and back. Mark’s large hand rose shakily and cupped my cheek tenderly. He leaned slowly forwards and I could smell his sickly sweet breath on my face. Thoughts were racing endlessly around my mind as he grew closer and that’s when I finally decided to close the gap between us and sealed it with a kiss, my eyes fluttering closed.

Sparks flew instantly.

I can safely say that two of the most unexpected things happened today: I met the man with whom I’ve been in love for quite some time and I kissed him… however, there was a third unexpected thing that happened… I stopped the kiss and walked away as fast as I could. After all this time spent alone and longing for someone to love me, for HIM to love me, I got up and walked away.

“Make yourself comfortable. What’s mine is yours… I’ll be back in a few hours.”

I left the room as soon as I finished my sentence and didn’t give Mark time to answer. And even though every fibre of me screamed to go back, it would be wrong. There was no way I would take advantage of anyone in a drunken state. Mark was no exception. I wanted this for so long but now it felt like a drunken mistake and the hurt it filled me with was almost unbearable.


	3. Dreams

Episode 2: Dreams

I waved goodbye to one of my regulars, Bob. On any given night, Bob would be the first person to arrive and the very last person to leave. He didn’t necessarily come to get shit faced during his nightly visits but came to the bar for the company. His wife, Cathy, passed away a few years ago; his two sons traveled a lot and barely had any time to visit. So, Bob resorted to the next best thing—his surrogate family.

He never caused any trouble, he stayed out of the way and he always had a story or two to tell, if there were those who were willing to listen. As far as I was concerned, he was a well-rounded person and was welcome here any day.

Bob had become something like a surrogate father to me over these past years. I experienced a loss similar to his, although much less tragic, in my personal opinion. Whereas he lost his wife in a brave battle against Breast Cancer, my family perished in a fire. My mother, sister, and grandparents were gone forever. Other closely related family members wanted nothing to do with me and from that day, I was on my own. I was lucky enough to have a job and a roof over my head. And other than the company of my patrons, that was all I needed.

I smiled weakly as I watched Bob fade in to darkness of the night. I switched off the neon “OPEN” sign, locked the door, and pulled down the blinds over the windows. The lose strands of hair that weren’t tucked neatly in a ponytail fell around my face. A heavy sigh escaped my lips and I pressed my back against the door. Hunching over, I pressed my hands against my knees to hold myself up. The few strands of dangling hair formed a small curtain around my face to hide the tears welling up in my eyes and the pain that was clearly drawn on my face. Today had been a long and eventful one.

The stress was starting to catch up to me and the pains of heartache pounding in my chest weren’t helping much, either. But I had to keep my cool. I couldn’t allow my mind to wander right now—I couldn’t afford it. I had a business to run and school to pay for, and it wasn’t easy to do for a twenty-one year old. I was better off than most, but I was barely scraping by. I had to pay for shipments of booze, pay my bills, pay Tony and Cassie, pay myself, and pay the 600$ to the university at the end of each month. I couldn’t afford a loan—the interest would wind me up fifty thousand dollars in debt. In the end, it was better to pay everything up front and centre.

On top of money issues, I had no close family to see on the coming holidays, no one to celebrate Christmas or New Years. Tony and Cassie always had plans elsewhere. On the best of nights, I sat in the apartment upstairs on my couch, my eyes making love to a new chapter of a book. Sure, Tony and I had movie dates every Friday, but that was the extent to my social life outside of work. So, being alone in this world didn’t do me much good, either.

I was drawn out of my thoughts when I heard heavy footsteps coming from the kitchen. I quickly brushed away my tears, put on a neutral expression, and busied myself with the dishes. No one was to see me in a weak state, not even Tony. I’d show it when I was alone. That way no one would have to see me a mess.

“Hey, Sarah,” he yawned. “I’m headed out. Anything you need help with before I’m off?”

“Just help me clean the tables and you can be on your merry way,” I replied while piling cans, bottles, and glasses onto trays. “We can wash them tomorrow. Be here at 10:30 sharp.

“Alrighty, boss,” he yawned again.

Tony grabbed a plastic dish bin from the kitchen and began to stack plates and beer mugs. Nothing much was said. Matter of fact, nothing was said, really. We worked in silence, feeling too tired to talk. That and we found we worked more efficiently in silence. The two of us got easily distracted whenever we spoke while working. There was a lot of playful banter, teasing; insults flew back and forth. With Tony around, there was never a dull moment to be had. Our elaborate conversations were so interesting and full of life, in fact, that we often forgot that we needed to wait on customers or clean up after closing.

We wanted to avoid that tonight.

After I stacked the last of the glasses, Tony and I groggily made our way to the kitchen, where we unloaded the trays and placed of the glasses in the dishwasher. We emptied and put away the bread baskets in the cupboard above the dishwasher and tossed the cloth napkins in the washer. There was a moment of silence between the two of us where nothing was said. Tony stared at me and me at him, waiting for something to be said. When the silence was stretched to its limit and nothing could be said, I nodded my head and bade him goodnight. I watched Tony exit through the back door and I locked the deadbolt behind him. I sighed and looked at my faint reflection in the window.

“Sarah,” I sighed, “what have you gotten yourself into this time? You’re in over your head.”

I let down my hair from its place atop my head and ran my slender fingers through the tangles, watching my reflection for a moment longer. My ears caught the faint sound of gentle snoring coming from above and my gazed turned to the ceiling; he sounded like he was sleeping peacefully and off in a world beyond the hectic one he was living in. Maybe he was dreaming about owning some Amnesia grunt, telling him to back off as he stuck a chair up his butt. I smiled at the though. I didn’t know what drove him to this drunken state, but I knew it would have had to be pretty bad.

Every problem always starts with something, big or small.

I turned off the lights and made my way to the apartment. In my strained state, the top of the single flight of stairs seemed both far away and close: Far away because of the tired cloud hanging over my head and the dread that Mark showing up at my bar was all a dream, but close because I yearned for my bed. I placed one foot in front of the other and soon I was on the landing atop the stairs. I fumbled the keys into the lock and eventually got the door open.

I kicked off my shoes in the foyer, hung up my apron, and meandered over to where Mark lay on the couch. My eyes wandered to his face and I melted a little; he looked rather peaceful while sleeping. He looked like he was far away from his troubles, in the lands of dreams where he could be free of sorrow for a little while. Tentatively, he reached out and ran my hand gently across his stubble covered cheek. Underneath the prickly hairs protruding from his face, his skin was rather soft to the touch.

When Mark grunted softly in his sleep and wiggled his nose, I quickly retracted my hand. What was I THINKING, trying to touch his face like that? I mentally smacked myself and crept towards my bedroom. The door swung quietly closed behind me and I locked it, just as I always did whenever someone was sleeping in my home. I threw off the dirty clothes and settle for a baggy t-shirt and boxers. The big, warm, comfy bed called to me and I gladly welcomed its comfort with open arms. I jumped into bed, as usual, and pulled the blankets over my head.

But even though my body was exhausted and begged my brain to shut off, my thoughts turned to Mark. I began to wonder if he really WAS here, sleeping on my couch; I began to wonder if my mind was playing a sick trick on me and the man I would see in the morning was a homeless one. I began to wonder this was all a dream and that when I woke up, he wouldn’t be there. And that’s what scared me the most.

_Sarah, he’ll be there when you get up,_ I told myself. _He’ll be asleep on the couch, snoring away, and stuck in a place where he can get away for a while… And he’ll most certainly not be a hobo. He’s here, he’s real, and he won’t be gone by the time the sun comes up_.

With that thought in mind, I slipped into a deep sleep. However, it wasn’t a peaceful one. It was one of the many nights that horrible memories came to me in the form of nightmares. I often woke screaming in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat. And this dream wasn’t any different than the rest; horribly scarring and a loss I wish not to relive for the life of me.

***

_I remember waking up to the smell of smoke. It was a strong, pungent smell that crept through the cracks of the bedroom door, around the edges of my bed, swirled around my head, and into my nostrils. It was strong and musty. The air was hotter than it should by about twenty degrees, was very dry, and there was an ominous, flickering glow emanating from the cracks at the bottom of the door._

_Cautiously and swiftly, I ran to my door and placed my hand on the knob. I yelped in pain and pulled my hand away, clutching it to my chest. Had I noticed that the doorknob had been glowing bright orange, I wouldn’t have dared touch it. I glanced down at my hand and nearly emptied the contents of my stomach; there was blood oozing out of seared flesh and I could see a nerve protruding from my skin, twitching slightly._

_And then I heard banging on the wall to my left and voices called for help, calling for me. They were the voices of my grandparents and my mother coming from the other room, which they had converted into a TV room._

_“Sarah, are you ok? Answer me, please!” my mother’s voice called out in desperation._

_I answered, my voice hoarse from smoke inhalation, “I’m fine, mom. Are you ok? Can you get out?”_

_There was a pause—a very unsettling pause. “Baby, we can’t get out… and there are no windows,” she paused a moment and took a deep breath. “Your grandparents are unconscious and nothing I do will resuscitate them, Sarah-pea.”_

_The reality of the situation came bearing down on me and I began banging and punching at the walls, desperately hoping I could punch a hole through them, even with my injured hand. I didn’t care about my own injuries; I needed my mother and my grandparents. I had no other family who ever showed me a shred of kindness. I couldn’t live without them! I didn’t want to be alone. I wasn’t ready, not yet. No child should have to bury their parents and grandparents in one sitting. “Mom, no! You can’t die! I won’t let you!” I screamed, continuously banging on the wall, my injured hand began to bleed heavier. “I need to save you.”_

_“Sarah, baby, I’m not going to be there… You need to be strong, baby. I’m so sorry,” she said trying to keep her calm while I wailed in agony._

_“Mom, no! Please!” I continued pounding on the wall, tears streaking down my face._

_“Baby… I… I love you…” And then I heard a thud as she fell unconscious to the ground._

_I began to scream for her, pounding louder and louder on the wall until finally…_

_***_

I woke up screaming, someone knocking at my door. My body was drenched in sweat and I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. “Hey, lady, you all right in there?” he asked, worry laced his voice. “Answer me. If you don’t answer in three seconds, I am going to assume you’re in danger and I’ll bust down the door.”

It took me a moment to catch my breath but I answered as quickly as I could. “Yeah. I’m fine, just go back to sleep, Mark.”

He was about to say something but paused for a moment. “How… how do you know my name?”

I bit my lip and couldn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say or how to react—my mind was still rather frazzled from my nightmare. “How. Do you Know. My name?” he repeated himself a second time, his voice intense.

My mind began to race. I wasn’t entirely sure if I should tell him the truth or if I should keep it to myself. I didn’t know if I could tell him if I knew him from YouTube or if I should lie, saying that he told me his name last night while in his drunken stupor. On one hand, if I told him, he could disappear… and I didn’t want that. But if he suspected that I didn’t know who he truly was, he might stick around a little longer. However, there was still that small chance that he would stick around even if I admitted the truth. Swinging my legs carefully over the side of my bed, I got up to unlock my bedroom door and I came face to face with the Let’s Player, himself. He was propped up on the doorframe with his outstretched, muscular arm. He had heavy, purple bags under his eyes and his glasses were nowhere to be seen. “You… you told me last night while inebriated,” I lied.

 “Oh… right,” he said, his voice sounding groggy and agitated. “You sure you’re ok, though?”

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine,” I lied once again.

He regarded me up and down with unsure eyes. “If you say so,” he shrugged. “Hey, I realized I hadn’t caught your name.”

“Sarah,” I replied. “My name is Sarah O’Callaghan.”

“Well, Sarah, I hope you’re ok… but it’s three in the morning and you—I should be getting some sleep,” he noted. “I have a strange feeling I’ll be feeling like shit, later. My head is already pounding.”

“If you need anything, just give me a holler.”

“Thanks… will do.” He slowly turned around and walked back into the living room, disappearing from my view.

I sighed heavily and closed the door, deciding that it would be prudent not to lock it just in case someone HAD broken in to the apartment. And, it wasn’t like Mark was going to rob me blind… he just didn’t seem the type. My feet carried me back to my bed and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was carried into a dream-less sleep.

***

It was a little earlier than I hoped it would be when I finally woke up. The sun wasn’t high in the sky, but it was still mildly bright. It must’ve been anywhere between 8:30am and 9:30am. I yawned and rolled over, closing my eyes. I wanted to get a few more minutes of shut eye. But, it seems, my body wouldn’t allow me any more sleep. I tossed and turned for a few more minutes before I threw my hands in the air, defeated.

I glanced at my clock—it red 8:45—and decided that if I wasn’t going to get any more sleep, it was about time I got up. My phone buzzed on the night table and I checked it. Both Cassie and Tony had texted me, calling in sick. My suspicions were raised but I highly doubted that the two of them would get together. It was a bad breakup, after all, and it wasn’t likely that they would ever speak again. It seemed like I was on my own tonight, and I didn’t much like the idea. Something just wasn’t sitting right. However, I shook off the foreboding feeling that something would go wrong and decided to get up.

My feet carried me quietly from my room and into the kitchen, which was adjacent to the living room where Mark was snoring happily away. A low gurgle came from my stomach, as if it was saying, ‘Feed Me!’ and that was when I noticed I hadn’t eaten since noon yesterday. Careful to be as quiet as possible, I opened the fridge and grabbed some eggs. For some reason, I was having a real hankering for them. Deciding that an omelette would be better suited to satiate my hunger, and that of a sleeping Mark on my couch, I pulled some mushrooms, ham, and cheese from the fridge and an onion from the pantry.

 I pulled a frying pan from the compartment underneath the oven and a bowl from the cupboard above me. I cracked a few eggs into the bowl and whisked in some milk, to give it a creamy texture. I then chopped up the mushrooms and ham, and sliced the cheese. The thing I dreaded most about cooking… was chopping the onions. I HATED cutting up onions. They released this acidic-like substance that burns your eyes and causes you to cry. Luckily, this time I was quick enough to spare myself the painful tears. I tossed the mushrooms and onion bits into the frying pan and continued to whisk the eggs as I listened to the frying pan’s contents sizzle happily. I added the ham and then added the eggs to the mix. I stirred the eggs around the pan for a moment and let it cook for a little. When the edges were cooked and the centre bubbling in the centre of the pan slowed, I flipped over the omelette and placed some cheese in the centre and folded the omelette over. I plated it with a few pieces of toast and set it on the table beside me. 

After making my own, I set out a glass of water beside Mark’s place and a glass of milk beside mine. He was going to need plenty of water to get rid of that hangover of his. Slowly, I began to eat. I took my time to savour every bite and washed down every mouthful with a swig of milk. As I was beginning the second half of my omelette, I heard a grunt coming from the couch. I peered over top of the small island separating the kitchen from the living room and found Mark to be slowly sitting up, clutching his head. I then remembered I had a few ibuprofen pills in my pocket and I quickly placed them beside his tall glass of water.

“Holy balls, my head is POUNDING,” he grumbled.  He rose slowly to his feet, only dressed in his jeans. I tried to avert my eyes from his well-built chest and focused instead on my half-eaten omelette. “How much did I drink last night?”

I smirked at him as he staggered his way towards the kitchen table. “Cassie, one of my employees, told me that you paid for an entire bottle of Smirnoff Vodka and only a quarter of the bottle was left when I found you,” I said, my mouth filled with a piece of omelette. “You’re lucky that you didn’t have alcohol poisoning. That’s a lot to down in less than an hour.”

Mark sat down, holding his head in his hands, his eyes slammed shut. “I’ve been wasted every night this past week and it’s never hurt this bad,” he admitted. “I guess I went over my limit.”

“Apparently,” I said slowly with another mouthful of food. “Well, if you haven’t sobered up over a certain period of time, it’ll hurt like a bitch when you finally do. Anyway, I made you something to eat. There’s a glass of water and some pain killers, too. Those should help rid you of the pain for the time being. Either way, you should get some food in your stomach and drink plenty of water.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He reached out for the two pills and the glass of water. He popped both pills lazily into his mouth and swelled back the water as if it was a giant shot of liquor. He put down the glass and stared at his plate, hungrily. Mark took up the fork and began to scarf down his breakfast. He mustn’t have eaten for days, by the looks of it. But slowly, about halfway through the omelette, he began to slow down and eat properly, chewing every mouthful slowly.

There was an uneasy silence between us for a while. Awkward, almost… and I decided to break it. “Hey, Mark?”

He stopped chewing, a clump of food formed in his left cheek. “Yeah?”

I looked down for a moment, biting my lip. “What’re you going to do now? I mean, you don’t have a place to stay, you don’t have anyone you can call—what’s going to happen to you?”

Me swallowed his food, put down his fork and licked his lips. “Honestly?” he said, finally looking into my eyes. I tried not to swoon. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do from here. Besides, what is it to you?”

“I’m only trying to make sure you’re going to be ok,” I said with caution. “I mean, you were a mess last night and I don’t think it was only because of the liquor, Mark.”

He rose suddenly from his seat, the chair skidding backwards across the floor behind him. “What’s going on in my life is none of your business, Sarah. I am a fully grown man and I can take care of myself. I don’t need your help. I appreciate the concern, but you don’t know me or anything about me… and I’d like to keep it that way.”

I was taken aback. After all I did—put a roof over his head, gave him food and drink—he was being defensive and rude. Never have I once thought that Mark would come off like this type of person. And as if he had read my mind, his face went from defensive to emotionless. He looked down and clenched fists. “I’m sorry… you invited me into your home, took care of me, and I acted out. You don’t deserve this kind of companionship… I should leave.”

I sat in my chair, watching Mark as he dressed himself, not sure if I should get up and argue the matter. He pulled his shirt over his head, wrapped his scarf around his neck, did up his stained pea coat, and marched towards the door. He slipped on his shoes, unlocked the deadbolt and paused. He turned to me for a brief moment and I could swear I saw sorrow bubbling in his eyes as our gazes locked. He said, “Thanks for the meal,” and then was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

***

MARK’S P.O.V.:

The sun was just setting over the horizon and university students alike were starting to emerge on the strip. I watched as a few ladies wandered around in skimpy shorts and revealing tops, wrapped up in their hoodies or their significant other’s bulky football jackets. Normally, any guy would like the sight of a little skin and would chase girls around town. Me, however, I would never understand how they could stand walking around in clothes like THAT in such cold weather. Sure, they’d soon be in bars or dancing in clubs where the heat would surely rise—along with the hormones—and they would be more than warm, if you know what I mean.

All the same, the way they dressed baffled me.

A cold breeze licked the nap of my neck and the hairs upon it stood up. I flipped up the edge of my collar, hoping it would break some of the wind. My hands were numb from the cold and my ears were freezing. I had spent the better part of the day wandering around town, thinking about the events that occurred last night and just this morning. I couldn’t get Sarah out of my mind. Why? I wasn’t entirely sure of that, myself. I wasn’t sure why she showed me kindness, gave me a place to sleep and something to eat. Any normal person would throw a disruptive, disrespectable drunk onto the streets to freeze, but after she found me in the bathroom and I looked into her eyes, something in them sparked. I might’ve been drunk, but I wouldn’t forget something like that. It was as if she was recalling someone who she had known or loved.

How could she ever have loved me or known me? Sarah had only met me last night and the odds of her knowing me from my YouTube channel were astronomical. I only had two-hundred-thousand subscribers when I left and it slowed from there. But, there was something about her that was nagging at the back of my head. There was something about this girl that was so familiar and warm… and I couldn’t figure out what that was. Maybe it was because she shared an open heart and showed the same generosity that my father had once the shown world before he passed on. Maybe I saw that same glowing flame of passion to help others in her that I did myself and my dad before me. I thought back to what happened earlier today and I knew what I did was wrong.

I had to set everything right.

For once today, I looked up and attempted to pinpoint where I was. I looked for street signs and found that I was on Wellington, there very street where I needed to be. I took a moment to gaze at my surroundings in attempt to find ‘O’Callaghan’s Pub and Billiards’. My eyes caught sight of a wooden sign hanging from one to the red brick buildings lining the strip. Upon it were green letters, reading the name of the pub I was in search of. I walked briskly across the street, narrowly avoiding a car zooming down the road.

As I took my first step on the curb, I looked through the large bay window and something didn’t feel right. A group of people were shouting, cheering, and encouraging something. My eyes searched for Sarah behind the bar but she was nowhere to be found. I caught sight of long brown hair pushing through the crowd. The cheers stopped for a moment as the woman reached the centre. Suddenly, a pair of hands reached out and pushed the person down and out of sight. Something in my stomach dropped as I realized what was going on: There was a bar fight and Sarah as caught in the middle of it.

***

SARAH’S P.O.V.:

The afternoon had passed slowly. Bob hadn’t showed up yet today and I missed him now more than ever. Bob was the person with whom I spoke about everything. He was my confidant. We shared our stories of torment when we needed to and swapped advice or offered comfort. Often times, it was both. Today, my heart had been torn in two as I had watched the man I had loved (more than anything, I might add) walk out of my door and would probably be gone. At the same time, I felt anger towards him; I took him in, fed him, gave him a roof over his head and he left after I showed concern about his well-being.

What kind of person did that?

I was so caught up in my own thoughts of sorrow and anger that I hadn’t realized that two particularly unpleasant drunks had begun a row. Everything was dead quiet in the bar except for the two men tearing a piece of each other with their fowl words. Everyone in the room slowly began to crowd around the two, taking out their cameras to film what was being said. From somewhere in the crowd, someone called out to them. “Stop with the bullshit, already! Punch the guy, you pussy!”

And then all hell broke loose.

The bigger of the two, who stood a head taller than the latter, clocked the smaller on the jaw, sending him spiralling into one of the wooden chairs, which splintered under his weight and the momentum, combined. He stood up, wiping the bit of blood off of his jaw and I could see the blood red anger boiling in his eyes. Something told me that this man was NOT to be messed with, despite his size. With a battle-like cry, the smaller charged the larger and gave a swift punch to his stomach followed by an upper cut to his jaw. He staggered a moment but soon caught his balance and soon, the duo began dancing in a circle, throwing punches left, right, and centre. The crowd around them started chanting a chorus of “Beef! Beef! Beef! Beef!” I couldn’t help but think how stupid and immature each and every one of these people in my bar was.

The bigger guy took the small by the scruff and slammed him onto the table. This is when he began to punch his opponent repeatedly. It wasn’t as bad at first, but as the punching went on, more blood began to pour out of the poor man’s nose and he was beginning to lose consciousness. No one was going to make a move to stop it. And since the so called ‘men’ of this bar weren’t going to do anything about it, I had to be the one to break up the fight—and I had to do it fast or else that man was going to die. I tossed my apron aside, vaulted over the bar and made my way swiftly towards the crowd. I didn’t know how I was going to end it, but I had to try

I tried to break through the crowd to no avail. They were all too pumped up about the fight going on that they paid no attention to me. I even pushed my hand between the two guys who stood in front of me and they didn’t budge. I finally decided that smacking them upside the head would do the trick.

“Hey!” the tall, lanky guy exclaimed. “What the hell was that for—oh boy.”

They finally realized who I was and what I was trying to do. “You either get out of my way or you get OUT of my bar.”

“Yes, ma’am—”

“Don’t call me that!” I shouted over the roar of the voices around us. “Just get the HELL out of my way!”

They did as I said and parted. Getting through the rest of the crowd was easy enough. I finally got to the centre and was careful to stay on the sidelines, attempting to stay out of their way. I stood up to my full height, rolled my shoulders back, and made myself heard. “LISTEN UP, THE BOTH OF YOU!” Everyone in the room, except for the two men upon the table, all began to quiet down. I strode over and tapped the larger guy on the shoulder. “Piss off,” he spat venomously.

“Get off of him.” I placed a firm hand on his shoulder and attempted to pry him away.

“I said, PISS off, you stupid—oh.” He stopped his next punch in mid air and froze. Everyone who came here learned to respect me pretty fast. I might be a skinny woman, but I knew how to hold my own, mainly with brains more than brawn.

“Yeah, that’s right. I said to listen up, which means to STOP BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF THIS MAN AND TO LISTEN TO ME.” He let the poor fellow drop to the table and he straightened up. I turned to the crowd of people and spoke out. “You ALL know the rules of MY establishment: There will be no cursing to insult one another, there will be no disruptive behavior, and, above ALL, there will no BRAWLING under my roof!” I bellowed. “That means that YOU two idiots (I pointed at the previously brawling men) are banned from this establishment. Congratulations! IF I EVER see either of you set foot in my pub again, I will have you both charged and you will PAY for the damage you have created. And anyone else who feels the need to beat the living crap out of each other can stay out of my bar, too! Is this understood?!”

I felt two firm hands take a hold of my shoulders and push me forward. I fell to my hands and knees in front of the two previously brawling men and looked up to see who had pushed me. A wicked grin crossed his face and the very sight of him paralyzed me with fear. “I have a better idea: Why don’t you shut up and let THEM do the talking?”

Everything suddenly spiraled out of control. The two guys who were previously fighting each other suddenly turned on me. With speed I never thought I had, I reached up to block a punch, coming from the bigger and stronger of the two. He, however, grabbed my arm and moved it out of the way. With agonizing pain, the bottle in his hand connected with my face and I screamed as glass shattered around me. Glass cut small gashes into my cheek and my vision went red—there was blood cascading down my forehead. However I was lucky that it was a thin bottle—otherwise I would’ve passed out right then and there. And part of me wished I had, to be quite truthful, because the punches that connected next with my face and stomach were gut wrenchingly painful. I wanted it all to stop. It felt like an eternity of pain had been bestowed upon me.

But almost as fast as it had begun, it was soon over. I heard a familiar, deep voice coming from above me. “What the HELL are your fucking problems? What the hell has possessed you to hit a WOMAN?” I knew Mark had come back. I felt safe, all of a sudden, safer than I had in years. A dark shadow loomed over me and something was placed on top of me… a coat or a blanket I think. I heard two footsteps at my feet and I looked up to see Mark was now coat-less and facing the shameful crowd, including the two men who had assaulted me. “ALL of you better listen and listen CAREFULLY. Each and every person here, involved with this beating and who decided to stand by and do didly while these ‘men’ attacked your defenseless bar tender, will pay their tabs front and centre with an additional twenty dollars for this outrageous scene. And then, you will clear out IMMEDIATELY! You have five minutes or I will be pressing charges on all of you! Get a move on.”

I watched as one by one, each person pulled out their wallets and emptied their contents into a jar in Mark’s outstretched hand. And, just as he commanded, everything was said and done in five minutes. When the last person had left, Mark jerked the blinds shut, switched off the open sign, locked the front door, and came to my side.

“Mark…” my voice was faint. “Th-thank you.”

“Sarah, do you feel any breaks? Are you hurt, in anyway, severely?” he asked, his voice now frantic, even though I could tell he was trying his best to stay calm.

I licked my bleeding lip and attempted a smile. “Nothing, no breaks. Just a couple of cuts and bruises.”

“Ok,” he said, gulping nervously. “Let’s get you upstairs.” Mark knelt down and gently wrapped his arms underneath me—one arm cradled me to his chest and the other supported my legs. He carried me carefully up the stairs. My head was pounding and my body ached terribly. I whimpered. I wanted the pain to stop, I wanted the blood to halt its flow, and I wanted to forget HIS face. What on Earth was he doing back in town? A better question was why he was in my bar the night the first fully fledged fight in the history of O’Callaghan’s broke out. More importantly, I wanted him out of my mind. I had enough physical pain to deal with and I didn’t want any more mental pain than was necessary at this point.

I sniffled, feeling the tears coming on. My hand reached up and I clung to Mark’s shirt, wanting any ounce of comfort that I could muster from him. For once, I felt safe in someone’s arms and I desperately didn’t want that feeling to disappear.

“Hey,” he said softly as he attempted to shift my weight to open the door, “it’s ok. You’re fine. No one is here to hurt you anymore.”

“It hurts,” was all I could croak.

“What does?” he asked as he lay me down on the couch.

“Everything… Everything hurts, Mark.”

“Where’s the first aid kit? It’s my turn to clean you up.” He was kneeling beside the couch. With a hesitant hand, I noticed he reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair gently behind my ear. I shivered slightly at his touch. He took it automatically as a sign of pain and he pulled away quickly.

I coughed, my throat a little sore from screaming. “In the hallway closet… top shelf, I think.”

“Hallway, top shelf. Got it. Stay put,” he ordered softly.

I could hear Mark as he got up and strode out of sight. I attempted to turn my head so that I could watch his receding figure, but it hurt too much to move. Within a few minutes, I could hear his footfalls coming closer. But they didn’t come to me; instead, the turned left and headed towards the kitchen. I inclined my head slightly in his direction and I could see him hovering over the sink with a cloth in hand. He turned on the tap and wet it with warm water, I would assume. With the red First Aid kit in hand, he walked back towards me and pulled up the ottoman to sit on instead of kneeling.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” His large hand was surprisingly tender when it touched my face and dabbed away the blood from the cuts on my cheek. To take my mind off the pain, I looked up at his face and took him all in. His stubble complimented his chocolate brown gaze, which was regarding me an intense care. He was concentrating hard, most likely to try to cause me no further pain. When Mark noticed I was watching him, his expression softened and became neutral as he regarded me, too. Our eyes locked and I could feel something brewing up inside of me. It was a warm fuzzy feeling I always got whenever I watched his videos—it was the feeling I got when I noticed I had fallen hopelessly in love with him.

“Thank you, Mark,” I croaked. “I’m in your debt.”

He chuckled once and concentrated on treating my wounds, but a soft smile kept his face instead of a scowl. “No one else in that room would’ve done it and I wasn’t going to stand by while they hurt you,” he admitted. “Truth be told, I don’t let anyone lay a hand on ANY woman, especially not you…” he trailed off a moment. “I should be the one thanking you, really. So… thanks for taking me in last night. It was nice to finally have a place to stay instead of sleeping on a park bench.”

My heart went out to him at that moment. It had always been his, not that he knew that, but it was now truly his. “You know,” I said softly, “you can stay here as long as you want. I’ll… I’ll help you get back on your feet. I have an opening for a bar tender. You can take my place for a little while. I’ll teach you all that there is to know. You’ll have to pay room and board, of course. You don’t get off Scot free. But I will do my best to help you… that is, if you’ll take it.”

Mark’s cloth filled hand stopped and had rested itself upon my cheek. “You’d… you’d really do that?”

“Of course… you saved my life,” I sighed peacefully. “It’s the least I can do. So what do you say?”

“I’ll do it,” he said with a smile, making eye contact with me again. There it was again, a spark. I couldn’t help but feel as if this was meant to happen.

The rest of the time we spent together was spent in silence. Mark cleaned my wounds and patched me up nicely. He helped me off the couch and walked me to my room, his arm around my waist to keep me stabilized. He turned away when I changed and then helped me into my bed. I pulled the covers over my body and nestled into the blankets. The gamer stood in my doorway, his hand on the light switch. He turned it off and walked out of the room, slowly closing the door behind him. The cold feeling of loneliness and fear crept over me like a blanket of fog does on a unnervingly quiet morning in the country.

“Wait!” I called out to him.

He poked his head through the crack in the door and looked at me. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how to ask you without feeling like an idiot, so I’m just going to come out with it: it’s silly to ask, I know, but I was wondering if you would sleep with me tonight… I just don’t feel safe sleeping alone. I don’t want any of that funky dunky stuff… I just want to feel safe and you’re… you’re the one who I think can make me feel safe. I know I’ve only known you for a little over twenty-four hours, but part of me knows you won’t hurt me… and that I can trust you.”

Without giving any real answer, he stepped into the room and approached my bed. He was dressed in the track pants I had given him earlier and in his form-fitting t-shirt. I swallowed hard as he rounded the other side of the bed and took off his shirt and glasses. I tried to avert my eyes for the life of me, but they were glued to him. He noticed this and turned his back to me. He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his glasses on the bedside table. He turned off the lamp, swung his legs over the bed and pulled the covers over him. I had hopelessly hoped he would wrap his arms around me, but knowing that he was beside me filled me with all that I needed. I rolled my head away from him and fell asleep shortly after.

This was the first nightmare-less night I had had in a while… and it was all because Markiplier, himself, was lying next to me, keeping a complete stranger safe. And I couldn’t have asked for anything more.


	4. Hide Your Heart Away

Episode 3: Hide Your Heart Away

The next morning was met with a warm sun beating down on my face. I yawned and blinked my eyes open. The light filtering through the curtains, illuminating the dust, was bright and I was trying to adjust them. But despite the peaceful warming sensation, my wakening was anything but. The injuries inflicted upon me the night before were sending shivers of pain running throughout my body. Images from last night came to light behind my lidded eyes. I cringed and tried to push them from my mind. That was last night. That was the past. I was alive and well. Though the memory haunted me, I would be ok. If not now, in time.

Carefully stretching myself, being mindful not to force my actions, I looked about the room through squinted eyes. The area beside my bed where Mark had made his makeshift bed was empty. My duvet had been replaced at the end of my bed and the pillow he used was returned to its rightful place. There was a small trace of his scent left on it.

Part of me wondered—knew—he was gone. It was too quiet for anyone else to be here but me.

And suddenly this feeling of loneliness, this feeling of abandonment, this sound of emptiness was closing in on me. I could hardly breathe. The last thing I wanted to be was alone, especially when I was feeling panicky. My eyes searched the room for my phone: I needed to call Perry. He could calm me down. He would know what to do.

This entire situation baffled me. At first, Mark was a mess. The next day he left abruptly when I pried a little, which I can understand to an extended. But he came back  _just_ in time to save my life. And now he was gone again—maybe for good. How he knew I was danger and why he had saved me were two questions I couldn't answer on my own. But he had been gentle and he had stayed last night when I was scared to be alone.

That had to count for something.

I struggled to my feet, clutching my ribs and made my way around to the other side of my bed. On my night table there was a scrap of paper with writing on it beside my phone. I paid it no mind as I shakily picked up my phone and the paper fell to the floor. Trying my best to ignore the pain that moving gave me, I attempted to unlock my phone. My hands were shaking and no matter how many times I tried to enter my password it didn’t work. After a few more tries, I chucked my phone across the room and yelped at the pain that shot up my side. I collapsed to the ground beside my bed and chocked back a sob.

As tears brimmed the corners of my eyes, there was a loud clang and the thundering of running feet came rushing towards me. My bedroom door flew open and I could hear panting. I turned my head and my blurry vision caught a glimpse of Mark. I was relieved to see he hadn’t bailed on my again—I just couldn’t bring myself to smile. The pain coursing through my body like electricity contributed to that.

I let myself cry then. Out of pain or out of relief of not being alone, I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling it was a mix of both. “Holy balls, Sarah,” he scorned, though his voice had a hint of worry. “What happened? Why the hell didn’t you ask for help getting out of bed?”

Mark came to my side and helped me carefully from the ground and placed me onto my bed. “I thought you were gone again. Everything was put away so neatly. It was like you were never here…” I managed through gritted teeth once I had calmed down. “I panicked, got myself out of bed and went for my phone. I didn’t want to be alone. I couldn’t unlock it and threw it across the room—hurting myself when I did.”

Mark shook his head and ran his hand across his face. He looked down and reached for the scrap piece of paper. “Did you happen to see this when you made your mad dash for your phone?” he asked, not un-gently.

I nodded. “Yeah, but I didn’t think to check it… wasn’t really a priority. It could’ve been anything.”

He nodded slowly and folded the piece of paper, putting it into his pocket. “What does it say?” I asked.

“I was just letting you know that I was…” he paused a second. “That I was gone for groceries.”

“Ok…” I answered quietly. “Why did you leave, anyway?... The room last night, I mean.”

“Honestly,” Mark sighed, “I thought it was…  _wrong_. I know you wanted someone to stay with you and keep you safe, but being in the same room with you and me wanting—” he cut himself off, shook his head and continued. “But sleeping in the same room with you didn’t feel right so I slept on the couch and checked up on you once and a while. Had nothing better to do and I couldn’t sleep, anyway.”

I bit my lip and was quiet for a moment. “That’s very… thoughtful of you. Or, at least I think that’s the right word to us.

He looked sideways at me and smirked. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

It was quiet for a moment before I reached slowly out to him and shook his shoulder gently. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what, exactly?”

“Saving my life,” I smirked. “Not a lot of people would’ve stepped up to do what you did and… and I am really grateful for that.”

He grew quiet for a moment but allowed himself to smirk, looking down at his hands. “Any time.”

Another moment of silence hung over us. I was looking at the back of his head and his gaze remained fixed on his hands as he twirled his thumbs. However, when he tilted his head upwards, I caught his eyes and the locked almost immediately with him. And that was when I really saw Mark.

They always said that the eyes were the windows to the soul but I never really believed it until now. There was some unspoken connection flowing between the two of us. I could never explain to you what that connection meant, though. But I could _see_ him. I could see in to Mark; I could see a glimpse of what he was feeling and I could tell there were secrets floating around in those big browns. I was sure he could see the same in mine.

Although I wasn’t unhappy, my smile faded to a straight line. I only just came to the realization that Mark really _did_ have a rough life. His childhood, in spite of its good moments, wasn’t all that great for a time. He never had the chance to be young. His father died of cancer, his mother became a little bitter, and he was lost for the longest time. After he had found his resolve in gaming and his fans, he was good for a while— _great_ even. Mark’s life was going so well. Something slipped up, it would seem, and now he was back where he was two years ago. Mark was giving me a quick glimpse of himself (though I couldn’t tell you if it was voluntary) and I could see a shimmer of something akin to help. That part of him wanted a chance to start anew.

Mark looked away, then. He slowly took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. I reached slowly towards him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. I squeezed it to show him I knew what it felt like to be hopeless and lost. And that he was wasn’t alone. The saying ‘actions speak louder than words,’ was rather true in this moment. You can communicate anything with a simple touch.

He breathed in shakily and slumped a little more, resting on his haunches. I scooted a little closer and wrapped my arm around his shoulder, ignoring the pain it sent shooting down my spine.

“Look,” I said softly, “I don’t know what’s going on in your life and I’m not going to bug for any details. I don’t expect you to tell me anything. That’s your business. I am, after all, a stranger. However, if you ever feel the need to talk to anyone about what’s rattling around in that head of yours, I will be here to listen. Just know you aren’t alone.”

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“You’re welcome. You saved my life and I feel like I owe you something.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I wouldn’t stand by as someone beat the living snot out of you—I wouldn’t let that happen to anyone.”

Before I could answer, my stomach let out a loud growl. I blushed a little and coughed awkwardly. Mark only chuckled. “Well, like I said, I did go out for a few groceries. After I put them away, I’ll make you my most famous breakfast meal: Micro-waved scrambled eggs! With _cheese!_ ”

I laughed and my ribs stung a little. “That sounds so unappetizing,” I teased. “My toasted can make better eggs than you.”

“You dare mock my awesomeness?!” Mark said in an over exaggerated voice. “I challenge this toaster of yours to a duel!”

“Make sure it doesn’t involve water or the two of you will be toast,” I said with a smile.

He guffawed. “Electricity is no match for _me!_ No one and no thing is as tough as I am! I was born with the awesomeness that most people spend a lifetime earning!”

“My toaster accepts your duel!” my stomach grumbled again and my blush grew deeper. “Let the games begin.”

“And may the odds be _forever_ in _my_ favor!”


	5. A Little Thing Called Trust

Episode 4: A Little Thing Called Trust

It had been some days since I found Mark at my bar. Things were getting steadily better between the two of us, which was a comforting notion. Not that I would admit it aloud, but it was nice having someone to share my life with. Tony and Cassie were great, don’t get me wrong, but having the presence of someone who knew nothing about me had a positive outline to it. He didn’t know my demons and something about that made it easier to be around him.

After what happened, Mark stuck around. There was some air of reluctance about him. Maybe a reluctance to leave me alone after what happened. There was an unmistakeable tension thrown into the air whenever we were in the same room.

He slept in the living room on the pull out couch. My bedroom door was left unlocked and was often times cracked open. Nightmares were few but they still woke me up during the night. I didn't scream, though, which was a welcome pleasantry. Instead, I would wake up with a gasp, my sheets occasionally soaked with sweat. Mark was always there to help change my sheets. He'd be walking slowly into my room by the time I was out of bed; he'd quietly help me change my wet bedding and then he'd looked me over once before leaving the room. Mark always left the door open a crack.

Part of me wondered if he ever got much sleep. If he didn't, he never showed that it bothered him.

After a day or so of Mark staying over, I finally asked him if he just wanted to stay with me. It would be better than living on the bench outside the bar. There was a moment of silence as he thought it over. The look on his face looked like he was warring on the inside. He eventually agreed to it. I offered him a job-- I needed a new bar hand, anyway, and I wasn't going to let him live here without paying rent.  

Ever since Mark decided to stay with me, my life seemed to be getting better and better. He always went out of his way to ask if I ever needed help or to make me laugh on the days I found it hard to get out of bed. The injuries inflicted upon me often made it much more difficult. He even made sure I got to the doctor’s office the other day for a check up. I was too stubborn to actually go myself, never wanting to impose on someone else’s time if it wasn't necessary. In the end, Mark actually carried me out of the apartment bridal style and shoved me into the car, driving me to the office. I guess I didn’t have much of a choice then, but it was good fun in the end, and I appreciated it all the same. It was a relief to know that I was healing fast.

 His presence brought me a sense of security that I haven’t felt in a long time. I couldn't figure out what about him made me feel so safe. Maybe it was because I wasn’t as alone or maybe it was the whacky sense of humour he had. I mean, who couldn’t laugh along with his profanity-filled jokes? They would have to be a fool not to appreciate his effortless nature when it came to comedy. But when he wasn’t busy cracking jokes to make me smile, he spent most of his time in silence.

Today, I was beginning to feel much better. The swelling around my ribs had gone down considerably; my split lip was nearly healed and the bruises on my cheek, ribs, and stomach were starting to turn yellow, which made me quite happy. It meant I wouldn’t have to coop myself up in my living room much longer. I could finally get back to work. Although I didn’t want to admit it, I missed the hustling and bustling about, getting drinks and serving customers. It was boring on most nights and I hated not being down there with Mark, Tony, and Cassie.

Tony had offered to train Mark while I was on ‘sick leave’.  Mark had been a bar tender in the past but that had been years ago. He waited on the tables for the time being and served some drinks, but nothing that had to be mixed. Cassie was going to take care of that until I was ready to come back. On most days, though, both Mark and Tony had to force me back upstairs, kicking and screaming (not literally, though). I was just so tired of doing nothing and I needed to do _something_! They refused to let me leave the apartment to go grocery shopping or to take a walk. The doctor told me to take it easy and asked Mark to enforce that rule. Needless to say, he didn’t make my life any easier in that aspect.

I felt so useless!

I mean, watching Lord of the Rings Extended Edition, Doctor Who, Hannibal and Game of Thrones could only carry you so far before you wanted to get up and make something of your boring life. I’m not saying that they aren’t amazing TV shows to watch but it would go to your head if all you did was watch re-runs of the same movies and TV shows time and time again. It goes straight to your head!

I had been watching _Game of Thrones_ for the better part of the afternoon and well into the night. It was rounding 2:00 AM and I was just reaching the end of Season 2 for the second time—not in a row, of course. The episode of Blackwater was just nearing its end and I sat on my couch, crushing one of my throw pillows to my chest in excitement. My all-time favourite Sandor “The Hound” Clegane line was coming up.

“TO THE MUD GATE!” the soldiers cried and I started to squirm in my seat. The scene cut to the mud gate bursting open with Sandor and his men charging through. Sandor belted out in his harsh, grating voice, “Any man dies with a clean sword, I’LL RAPE HIS FUCKING CORPSE!” I said the line along with Sandor in perfect unison. It was absolutely exhilarating! Quite honestly, I wouldn’t be able to tell you why I loved that line so much, but I did. I wasn’t like ‘pro-rape’ or anything—it’s a horrible act and I shudder at the very thought of it. But, you have to admit, the line was some awesome shit.

Just as I doubled over giggling like a crazy fangirl, the apartment door clicked shut and my eyes darted sideways to see who had come in. And there he was. Mark was standing in the doorway, smiling softly at me, a glint of wonder in his eyes. I blushed and ducked my head into the pillow. “Gah, sorry you had to see that!” my voice came out muffled. However, Mark seemed to know what I was saying.

He chuckled as he kicked his shoes off and came to stand behind the couch. I didn’t feel him bend over so when his deep voice sounded in my ear, I jumped a little. “I’ve never seen you fangirl before; not even over Lord of the Rings. It’s intriguing. Do it again?”

 I shoved his shoulder and he laughed heartily. “You wish, Fish-back.”

Mark glared at me mockingly, stood up straight and puffed out his chest. “It’s Fischbach, thank you very much! Just get your face out of here,” he reached down and put a giant hand on my face, nudging it around. “Just get that ugly face out of here! Just get that UGLY FACE of yours OUT of HERE!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I threw his hand off my face and pulled him over the edge of the couch, flipping him safely onto the cushions. He looked at me in bewilderment for a moment before he smiled and burst into a fit of laughter. I joined him shortly after and we were both doubled over with laughter on the couch as the episode continued in the background. You could hear Sandor saying, “Fuck the king,” followed by silence as he walked off. After a few minutes, the both of us calmed down. We sat on opposite ends of the couch. I had my knees curled up to my chest, clutching my pillow again and Mark sat on the other end. His legs were spread apart, his left hand had a beer in it and the other arm was propped up against the back of the couch. I spared him a glance before turning my attention back to the TV and ignored the pleasant feeling that his presence gave me.

 The two of us sat in silence until the episode ended.

Mark rose from his seat, put down the beer on the side table, and took out the DVD from the BlueRay. He turned to me, putting his glasses atop his head, and flashed me the case for the extended edition of _Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers_. I rolled my eyes and huffed. “Don’t get me wrong,” I said a little annoyed, “but I’ve watched this movie _way_ too much over the past week. I don’t think I’m up for round 100.”

“Nonsense! We should pick it up from where the two of us left off on Wednesday.” Mark pulled the second disk of the movie and popped it in to the BlueRay player. “Besides, it’s kinda nice to stay up and watch movies with someone for a change. Better than being alone.”

At that comment, I glanced down at my hands a moment and then looked up to Mark who was still knelt by the TV. I nodded slowly and allowed myself a small smile, knowing that he was right. “Yeah, actually… it is,” I replied softly.

Mark flashed me smile and came back to sit on the couch, a little closer to me this time. My hand reached for the remote and clicked the _resume movie_  option and we sat in silence as the second part of the movie came to an open. After a while, the scene changed and the gang (Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn, Merry and Pippin) were all celebrating in the Great Hall with King Theoden. Gimli, who was already loaded out of his tree, was challenging Legolas to a drinking competition. Legolas, thinking nothing of it, accepts. After some time, and many pints of beer later, Gimli makes a comment about sleeping with hairy women and passes out. Shortly thereafter, Legolas feels a tingling in his fingers as he begins to feel the effects of the alcohol sinking into his system.

I doubled over roaring with laughter. It was utterly _hilarious_ to see the wise, somewhat innocent and o-powerful Legolas being slowly reduced to a drunken waste. You never saw it happen, but the thought alone was enough to have me bent over in a fit of giggles.

It took me a moment, however, to notice that I was the only one laughing. Mark was quiet beside me as he gazed down into his empty beer bottle. Once I began to calm down, I gave him a once over and knew something was amiss. Mark _loved_ Lord of the Rings—even went so far to claim that the second movie was his favourite. If this was true then why was there a blank expression on his face?

Just as I opened my mouth to say something, Mark rose from his seat abruptly and placed the bottle on the side table. I reached for the remote to pause the movie. “No—don’t pause it. It’s ok,” he said, his voice monotone. “Just need some fresh air. Be back in a few.”

He slipped on his shoes, shrugged on his hoodie, and slipped out the door without another word. My ears caught the sound of him quickly making his way down the stairs, around into the main seating area, through the kitchen and out the backdoor to the alley.

Something felt very off—very wrong.

I sat on the couch, waiting a while and contemplated whether or not I should go after him or give him his space. It was going to be a hard decision, either way. On the one hand, if he was left to his thoughts, it could get worse and fester. On the other, if I did go after him he could possibly take it out on me. I really didn’t want that right now… The former idea began creeping itself into my mind. I knew what it was like to let an idea fester and rot inside you: The idea in question, no matter what it may be, will only make you feel worse the longer you ponder it. It’s like a poison that slowly creeps into your system, reaching out its snake-like tendrils until it’s latched itself carefully into your every thought and it’s all you can do to shake it. But it never goes away—it consumes every feathery light thought or memory you have left. Similar to how darkness extinguishes light and swallows it whole. In the end, you’re nothing but a paranoid, depressed mess of a person, barely recognizable to the world, or yourself for that matter. A shadow of who you once were.

That’s what made up my mind.

I gave Mark another ten minutes. And as the ten minutes slowly ticked by, he wasn’t back. My feet guided me towards the small foyer; I grabbed my sweater and walked out of the apartment barefooted. I padded down the stairs and followed the same path Mark had trudged earlier. I was mindful of the dangers in the bar’s kitchen and managed to get through unscathed. My hand grasped the doorknob and turned it to unlatch the door from its frame. A breath caught itself in my throat as I looked out into the dim light and my eyes didn’t catch immediate sight of Mark. They darted to the right and then to the left. A smirk slowly found its way on my face in the dark as my eyes fell on his figure leaning up against the brick wall.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing shoes?” his voice was hoarse, as if he had been crying. “There’s glass all over the place. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt… again.”

I found myself chuckling softly at that. “I’ve been out here loads of times and never got cut,” I admitted half-heartedly. “I think I’m safe.”

He laughed quietly at that, though not unkindly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right… Still, though, you should have something on your feet.”

“Yes dad,” I said playfully. There as a pause before I spoke next. “Speaking of being hurt, you ok? You kinda just… _walked_ out without saying much. Got me a little worried, there.”

Mark heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about that… it’s just… that scene with Gimli and Legolas drinking themselves stupid… it’s related to a memory that used to make me happy.”

“Well, did you want to talk about it?” I asked cautiously, hoping he would notice I wasn’t prying. “I’ll never to push you to talk about something you’re not comfortable discussing, but it would be better than just leaving it fester itself.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right of course…” he trailed off a moment. “It’s a sensitive topic, though, and I would have to tread lightly… Just not sure if it’s something I want to talk about right now. I will only tell you that it’s something to do with my past. Well, not something so much as it was someone. She was really close with me… But those days are gone.” His eyes were downcast and his face was hard.

“What happened?”

“Well, she left… She just up and left,” his voice cracked. “Didn’t say goodbye, didn’t give me a reason, just left.” In the dim light of the moon I could see a few tears streaking down Mark’s cheeks as he slumped over, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. I took a few careful steps forward and reached out to touch his cheek. He jumped a little at first but stiffened under my touch. My thumb slowly began to smooth circles on his cheek, wiping away his tears. Soon, he began to loosen up under my ministrations and Mark looked up to gaze into my eyes.

After a few moments, I could feel his hands sneaking onto my waist. One went to the small of my back and the other reached for the space between my shoulder blades, right on my ribcage… and then he pulled me to him, crushing me in a hug. I was taken by surprised and gasped. But after a moment I wrapped my arms around his neck and threaded one of my hands subconsciously though the hair at the base of his head. Something shook beneath me and I noticed Mark had begun crying anew. An ache grew within me and my heart reached out to him. I knew nothing had to be said and all I could do to show him everything was going to be ok was to hold him as tightly as he held me… or at least I would try.

We stood there for a good ten minutes before Mark calmed down. I slowly pulled myself away and looked into his eyes and carefully wiping away the stray tears. A soft smile formed itself on my face and I could see Mark’s mouth twitch slightly—that was good enough for me. I took his face gently between my hands and reached up on tiptoe to place a kiss on his forehead. My hand reached down to his limp ones, resting at my sides, and my fingers laced with his. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He simply nodded, put his glasses back on and let me lead him back to the apartment. I helped him slip out of his hoodie and got him to the couch. Tossing aside the cushions, I pulled out the futon and made a mental note to buy Mark a real bed, soon. I could empty out my office-like area in the spare room and let him have it. It was the least I could do. He would have more privacy in a room of his own. He sat down on the edge of the mattress as I disappeared around the corner to fetch a fresh pair of boxers and his Markiplier T-shirt from the drier. When I came back, he had already taken off his glasses, socks and shirt, leaving his jeans, which were unbuttoned.

I tried very hard not to think about that last part.

I placed his clean clothes on the bed beside him and lifted his chin so he could look into my eyes. “If you need anything, I’m right down the hall. Sleep tight.”

My fingers let his chin go and his head dropped again to look at the floor. I sighed and left him to his thoughts. This time, I didn’t lock the door to my bedroom. Soon my pants and shirt were on the floor and I had pulled on a baggy t-shirt and a pair of boxers—if they were Mark’s I didn’t know. As soon as I was settled in bed, my mind began to race. Who was this girl that Mark was talking about earlier? Just a good friend? Someone he loved? A girlfriend? But who in their right mind would just up and leave a guy like him? Someone so brilliantly funny, kind and generous like him? I would have given anything to be in her position. I would have switched places with her in a heartbeat if it meant I could be called _his_ …

But thoughts like these at a time like this were a luxury I couldn’t afford.

Mark was in no condition to consider a girlfriend and, truth be told, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be part of his life in that way. Not yet at least. There were a lot of things that this guy had to figure out before he would ever consider trusting someone that deeply again. And, truth be told, even if he never saw me as a love interest I would be grateful being just a friend. He was here, after all, and I couldn’t be happier to help him find a way to happiness again.

My thoughts were interrupted when a knock came at the door. I sat up on my forearms and looked at the doorway. In the light of the moon, I could see Mark standing there, a frown on his face and his shoulders slumped. He wore nothing but his boxers. I pushed myself up so I was sitting properly on the bed and regarded him with a questioning gaze. “Hey. Is everything ok?”

There was a moment of silence before he answered. “I don’t want to be alone…”

I patted the bed beside me. “You can sleep here tonight, if you want.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly and made his way slowly over. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to me. Mark looked down a moment and ran a hand through his hair, as if he was thinking about something—like maybe if it was a good idea to be sharing a bed with someone. After a moment, he removed his glasses, put them on the bedside table and settled in beside me. Mark rolled on to his side, his back facing me and slipped a hand underneath his cheek, gazing at the far wall.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “For earlier. It helped.”

I glanced over at him, looking him up and down. “Any time. I’m here if you need anything.”

“I know… thanks… it means a lot. There aren’t a lot of people who would go out of their way to do something like this for me.”

“Well… You took care of me for a week—a complete stranger. You never failed to help when I needed it and that means a lot to me… Not many people would go out of their way to do what you did. I think it’s about time you need to be tended to.” I was silent for a moment, contemplating my next words. “Look, I’m not going ask for an autobiography… just be careful about holding all of your feelings back. If you don’t express yourself, the memories that haunt you will do nothing but fester and rot inside and it only makes everything worse. I would know. I’ve been there a few times. Let me tell you, _this_ ,” I gestured to myself, “wasn’t always easy going. I had it tough, too. The only thing I had to get me back on my feet was this bar. At least you won’t have to deal with it alone.”

“An amazing girl like you? Have it hard? I can’t see it,” I looked back over at Mark to see he had laid himself on his back, a glint of happiness in his eyes.

I went along with his little game. “Yeah, I’m telling you! I wasn’t always this tough and smart and beautiful. Had to work for it! I mean, you were _born_ with awesomeness—I can smell it! But me, nope! I earned my awesomeness.”

“HA! No one is as tough and smart and _handsome_ as I am! Not even you!... Well, I guess you _could_ be, but don’t let anyone know I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” We laughed for a while; the silence growing between us was peaceful. “By the way, take the day off tomorrow. Give yourself some time to your thoughts.”

“No, don’t worry about it! I just need some sleep and a cup-o-joe in the morning and I’ll be fine!”

“Nope, bosses orders!” I pressed, a tone of playfulness in my voice. “No if’s and’s or but’s!”

“But—”

“That’s that! Goodnight, Mark.”

 I rolled over with a smile on my face. I heard Mark huff beside me and felt him settle in for bed. Shortly, my eyes were drooping and I was slipping into the darkness of my dreams. But before I was completely gone, Mark whispered, “If there’s a God out there, thank you for making me a mess.” I didn’t pay much mind to his words and drifted into darkness.

 


	6. Back To The Drawing Board

Episode 5: Back to the Drawing Board

Much like the first time I met Mark, I found him hugging the toilet in my bathroom. It’s been the first time since I met him that he’s been _this_ drunk. After the events from a few nights ago, something hasn’t been quite right. He wasn’t as enthusiastic with his job. He seemed off in his own little world on the best of days. More often than not, Mark messed up a lot of orders or brought the wrong food to the wrong table. It was so very unlike him. He took pride in everything he did and for him to act like this really tore me apart.

I had just finished locking up when I noticed Mark wasn’t with us. I didn’t pay any mind to it for the first little bit as Tony and I worked to get the place all cleaned up for the next day. It wasn’t until I noticed a bottle of Drambuie was gone with a 50 dollar note was left behind the bar that I knew what was going on. Turning to Tony, I excused myself and made a mad dash for the stairs. Once I reached the top, I could hear the sound of gagging and knew Mark wasn’t in good shape. I threw the door closed behind me and sprinted to the bathroom. That’s where I found him, head halfway into the toilet bowl, emptying his stomach. The empty bottle of Drambuie was at my feet.

I was a little concerned over severe alcohol poisoning.

A sigh made its way up my throat and I knelt down beside Mark to support his shoulders, making sure he didn’t inhale any of his stomach acid. He’d be in _big_ trouble if he did. He heaved for another five minutes before he finally relaxed. Mark leaned backwards and slumped against me, wedging me between himself and the wall… not intentionally, of course. He was lucky he puked most of it up. The rest that was already going through his blood would be ejected later. I tried to sit him up properly while I formulated a plan. How was I going to get him cleaned up? Better yet, how was I going to get him off of me and into the tub?

This was going to be interesting.

I looked down at him and noticed his favourite shirt was soiled with puke, but his pants were fine. There was some dribble dripping down the side of his mouth and he smelled awful. The strong smell of bile made me want to hurl, too. I took a deep breath and carefully pushed Mark out of my lap. Always keeping a hold on to his shoulders, I swung around and leaned him against the tiled wall. Somehow, I managed to slip off his messy shirt and tossed it into the laundry hamper—I’d deal with that later. The tricky part was getting his pants off. I undid the belt, which was a probably the easiest part, and sat there tugging down his pants, trying to maneuver the shirtless man until finally, boxers and all, were at his ankles. (I paid no mind to his genitalia, so don’t you be giving me any of that sass mouth!) I chucked those into the hamper as well.

I don’t know HOW I did it, but I managed to lift Mark into the tub, I got stripped down to my underwear (nothing sexy, just a plain bra and granny panties) and sat him up carefully. Once the water was running warm, I turned on the removable shower nozzle and hosed him down. I lathered him down with some 3-in-1 body wash, conditioner, and shampoo thing he bought the other day and rinsed him off. Soaked underwear and all, I dragged him out the tub and he was beginning to stir a little by now. Great! This could be worked to my advantage! In his dazed state, I got through to him, which was a miracle! He stood up and allowed me to wrap a towel around his lower body and I lead him to my bedroom. There was no way he was sleeping on the pullout tonight—but I wouldn’t be sleeping with him.

The two of us walked slowly down the hallway, his arm strung around my shoulder, and we finally made it to the bedroom. I didn’t bother removing the towel. Once I put him to bed, I grabbed a few things from my dresser, went to the bathroom to change and made myself comfortable on the pullout. I lied awake for a good twenty minutes to make sure Mark was ok but I was positive he was conked out by now and there would be nothing to worry about until morning.

Of course, I spoke too soon and I heard Mark running to the bathroom to heave once again. And here I thought he had emptied everything. Apparently I was wrong. I heaved a sigh and made my way quickly to the bathroom to make sure he was ok.

“Get out!” he hollered before hugging the toilet bowl again.

“Mark, are you—?”

“I SAID GET OUT!” and he slammed the door in my face.

I jumped back a foot at his abrupt anger and slammed into the divider, sliding down to the floor. “Fuck you, too!” I called back.

Once the pain subsided, my feet carried me back to the futon and I lied awake once again, being kept awake by the sound of Mark’s heaving. If he didn’t want my help he could kiss my ass and puke out his entire intestinal track for all I cared. But of course, that wasn’t true… I could never wish him ill will: He was drunk. I could never hold that against him. The puking stopped and the apartment was consumed by silence. Again, I found my feet swinging over the side of the bed and bringing me the door.

I hesitantly rapped on the wood and called out quietly to him. “Mark… are you ok?”

“No,” was all he said.

“Did you need any help?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to come in now, is that ok?” I then added, “Are you decent?”

“The fuck if I care…” he sounded defeated.

I slowly opened the door and found Mark sprawled out on the floor again—a complete mess. “Ok, big guy, let me just get you cleaned up.” He helped me get him seated on the toilet (once it was flushed and the seat was down) and I took a cloth to his face, wiping whatever had gotten itself there. He slung his arm around my shoulder and I dragged him back to the bedroom.

“Stay right there. I’ll be back.” I dug through the linen closet in the hallway and brought him back a bucket. “If you’re going to puke again, use this,” I held the red bucket out and made sure he saw it clearly before I placed it beside him on the floor. “I’ll come running if you need anything.”

“What…” he said quietly. “You aren’t gonna stay?”

I sighed and sat down beside him on the bed. “No, I’m not. It’s best if you get some space tonight. But I’ll be in the living room, ok? Just give me a shout and I’ll be here.” I smiled gently and caressed his cheek a moment. Whether or not it was lovingly, I’m not sure. I just had to urge to do it. Just as I pulled away, Mark gently grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him. He grabbed my face with both of his hands and planted a kiss on my forehead. His hands then slumped to his chest and he stared up at me. I knew what he was trying to say without using words. “You’re welcome.” I kissed his forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll be back with a glass of water—be sure to drink all of it.”

***

The next morning was as good as it could be which was to say it wasn’t. Mark had been up puking most of the night. I found myself frequently running back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom to empty out the bucket. In the end, I crashed in the bed beside him, too tired to carry myself back to the living room. That morning, I found Mark passed out in a dead sleep, halfway on top of me. When I opened my eyes, I felt his cheek up against mine and there was a pile of something wet on my shoulder. My hand reached for it and, to my rather unpleasant surprise, found a puddle of drool.

I shrieked—although I’m not sure why—and tried to shove him off of me. He didn’t budge. _Great!_ I brought my arms underneath him and pushed Mark upwards with all the strength I could muster. He moved in the slightest bit, but it wasn’t enough to wiggle out. I pushed him a second time but before I could get him off, he rolled over and my arms got caught underneath him. It was then, while I was on top of him, that I realized he was completely naked and that a certain part of him was pressed up against me. _Oh dear GOD!_ I yelled inwardly. _Girl, it’s a penis. Not like you haven’t seen one before. Get a grip._

Before I could get my arms out from underneath him, Mark began to stir. Wide eyed, I looked down at him and a cocky smirk spread across his face. “If you wanted to sleep with me, all you had to do was ask.”

I made a sound of disgust, finally got myself free and sat up, not really paying any mind to the fact that I was still straddling him. “You know, this,” I said gesturing between the two of us, “is not what you think. You had rolled on top of me and I was trying to pull you off when you rolled over and—”

He guffawed. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. You know you want it.”

I punched his chest and he grunted, laughing a little, because part of that statement was true. “Shut up! That’s not what I want!”

Mark simply began to laugh as I sat there pouting and not really sure what to say or do. So, I just crossed my arms and pouted. “If you didn’t want it, why are you straddling me while I’m naked?” he winked at me.

“OH GOD! FUCK ME!” I cried, rolling off of him and falling in a heap onto the floor.

“Only if you want me to, baby,” he said, leaning over the side of the bed and waggling his eyebrows.

“Grow up, Fishy Slime!” I chucked a pillow at him, a smirk beginning to spread across my face.

“You know you _want_ it!” he laughed, catching the pillow.

I shoved his face out of the way. “Just get your ugly face out of here.” I got to my feet and was heading for the door, a blush creeping up my neck.

“Hey, where you going, baby? The fun was just about to begin!” Mark called after me.

“The only fun _you’re_ going to get is with your hand,” I poked my head back through the doorway and smirked crookedly at him. “You ain’t getting none of this.”

“In all seriousness, can you get me some Tylenol? My head is pounding.”

“Yeah. Sure. What some water to wash it down?”

“That would be great.”

I returned shortly to the bedroom. Mark sat himself up in the bed and had the decency to cover his lower body. He grabbed the glass of water and stretched out his hand as I dropped the pills into this hand. He tilted back his head and swallowed the pills with ease, washing it down the glass of water. I took my place beside him on the bed.

“Thanks.” Mark put down the glass on the bedside table.

Instinctively, I reached out and kissed him on the forehead. “You’re welcome,” I paused a moment. “Mark… we need to talk about that empty bottle.”

Mark looked down at his hands and sighed. “I thought you would say that… maybe it’s something left unspoken—forgotten. Something I don’t want to talk about.”

I ignore his comment and pressed a little. “Look, this girl, whoever she is, it is _not_ worth almost getting alcohol poisoning. You spent most of the night puking and I don’t want to see what again. She is not worth almost dying.” Mark looked away from me but I reached out, tucked my hand under his chin and forced him to look me in the eye. “This whole situation was none of my business until I found that missing bottle… I don’t want you to get hurt again. That being said: Don’t hurt yourself and don’t let the memory of this person hurt you. Ok?”

Mark was silent for a moment, looking into my eyes as if they held the answer to it. He then sighed and looked at me again. “Ok. I’ll try. I’m not promising anything.”

“Do or do not—there is no try.”

He smiled at that. “Whatever you say, Master Yoda.”

“All right,” I patted his cheek gently. “You good to work today?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I guess so.”

“Good,” I got off the bed. “Because you’re already late by ten minutes.”

“SHIT!” Mark jumped out of bed and ran out of the room. A minute later the door to the apartment slammed shut. There was something off about the lack of promise he had made me. There was something in his eyes that told me he wouldn’t try as hard as he could to get better… and that he would rather be drunk and forget than stay sober and be reminded of the past. The very thought made me worry. Mark had lost himself twice already. I was going to be damned if I was going to let it happen again. There had to be something I could do… but what? If his job didn’t distract him, than what would? I ran over all the possibilities in my head.

  1.       Trying to hook him up with a new girlfriend? Out of the question. He clearly wasn’t ready for that.
  2.       Find him a new hobby? But what did he like to do outside of his video games?
  3.       Hang out with Bob and Wade? I had no way of contacting them.



 

There were a few other things that crossed my mind, but they seemed irrelevant. They didn’t speak as loudly as the first two. Frustrated, I went to my laptop in the living room and began to follow old habits—watching MarkiplierGAME videos. If my own thoughts couldn’t help me, there was no better way than to watch his videos. Maybe they would help me figure something out.

***

An hour turned into the fourteen. I spent the entire day watching videos and marvelling in their hilarity. Of course, there were many jump scares but Mark’s expressions were always worth it—they made his videos that much better. No matter how scared I felt watching those videos, the knowledge that he was scared, too, always made me feel that much better.

As I watched on, I didn’t realize the door to the apartment had opened and closed and that Mark stood behind me. It was only when he cleared his throat and I spun around to see him that I knew he was there. I froze. I never intended for him to find out… at least, not like this.

“Sarah, what’re you doing?”

I had to think fast or he wasn’t going to be happy about this. “I was watching some videos on YouTube and I came across a familiar face. I didn’t know you did Let’s Plays. They’re pretty awesome. Amnesia’s one of my favourites.”

His face relaxed into a neutral expression. “It’s the game that started it all,” he said plainly.

And that’s what it dawned on me: Games were the answer to my problem. Whenever Mark had had a rough patch in his life, it was video games that always brought him back around. This is what his life was lacking—THIS is what his life was all about, this was what he lived for! VIDEO GAMES! How could I have been so blind?

“What?” Mark said and I noticed I had been staring at him wide eyed.

“Oh, nothing. I was just lost in thought.” I looked down and rubbed my chin. “Say, can you give me your old address? I’m going to need it for employee records.”

“Sure. You got a pen and paper?” I was beginning to wonder why Mark was being very cool about the whole situation when I smelled the alcohol on his breath. I _knew_ there had beeb an air of falsehood surrounding our conversation.

“Yeah. Here.” Mark scrawled down his address and flopped himself on the futon, which I had neglected to stow away last night.

“Oh,” he called from the couch. “Take these. I won’t need them anymore.” Mark tossed me some keys and I caught them. “Get rid of them, will you?”

“Sure.” After a moment of silence, I added. “Are you good to go on some errands with Tony tomorrow? It’ll take a few hours and I don’t think I’m quite ready to go out quite yet.”

“Sure. No problem.”

***

When I heard Mark leave the next day, I rushed to get myself ready. I was going to get Cassie and a few of my old friends from college to help me with what I had in store. I texted them all Mark’s old address and to buzz me when they got there. I peered out the window to make sure Mark and Tony were gone before I went down to my car. If this didn’t work, I didn’t know what else would.

The car revved to life and I pulled out onto the streets. The car dipped and dived and swerved along the roads until a set of apartment buildings came into view. Once I found the right one, I pulled into its driveway and found the visitor’s parking. Once I knew the car was safe I made my way to the front entrance. After fumbling with some keys, I slid the key into the second door and entered the foyer. His apartment was on the top most floor and I had no problem finding it. It was once I got there that I noticed there was no noise coming from the other side. The doorknob looked like it had been seldom used in months: There was a small film of dust on it.

I slipped the one of the keys into the lock and it clicked open. The door swung open on its own and the apartment opened up before me. Everything was left strewn across the apartment as if he had only just left the other day. The only thing that was obvious to no one living her in a while was the thin layer of dust coating the surface of every object in the vicinity.

My feet carried me inside of his apartment and I took my time looking around. It was a cozy place, nice for one or two people to live in. The dining room and kitchen were off to the right side of the entryway and the living room opened up nicely to two sliding doors onto his balcony. There was also a fireplace tucked into the corner.

It was a great living space.

I hung a left down the hallway where I found a nice bathroom and a solitary bedroom. When I stepped inside, I recognized it almost immediately from his later videos. On the far right hand side of his bedroom was where all his recording equipment and desktop were, including all of his consoles and games. On the left hand side, closer to his window, was his bed and a wall covered in sound-proofing panels. Those could come in handy and I made a mental note to ask Perry to take it down when he got here. Him and the boys could set it up at my place when they got there.

While I waited for my friends to show up with the moving van, I began to get a few things ready. I stripped his bed and packed the bedding and some clothes into discarded boxes I found in his closet. He didn’t have a lot and I believed he would appreciate it if he had something more to wear. After getting that done, I rummaged through his closet and found three giant boxes filled with gifts from fans. Among the assorted goodies were fan art and fan mail. I’d get the boys to take those downstairs. I brought them all to the hallway once I packed some Super Mario bead art and took down some paintings from the wall and packed those away, as well.

Just as I placed the last of the boxes from Mark’s room into the foyer, there was someone buzzing the intercom. I pressed the talk button. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sarah! It’s Elvis the Pelvis (AKA my good friend Perry). Mind letting me in?”

“Sure,” I said pressing the talk button once again. “Come on in.” I pressed the door button and buzzed him in. “Top floor, hang a right outside of the elevators. Apartment 1126, just on the left hand side of the hallway. Can’t miss it.”

“Be up there in a jiff. Terry-Bear and Scott are here, too.”

“Awesome, see you soon!”

I left the intercom and went back to Mark’s room to pack his equipment. Luckily, he had some transport gear for all of his electronics, which would make my life infinitely easier. The microphones where all packed into one box, his tower and monitor into another, the webcam, camcorder and lamp went into another. His PS3 and XBOX 360 had each their own boxes with their own games and I hauled those out to the hallway, too. Once there, I found Perry, Terry and Scott in the apartment, looking at all the boxes.

“Hey guys!” I ran over and gave them all a hug. “It’s been forever. Thanks so much for coming!”

“Any time!” Terry piped up. “What do you need done, boss?”

I smiled. “Can you and Scott take these boxes down to the van? Oh, and take these,” I handed them the keys. “Just so I don’t have to keep letting you in over the intercom.”

“Awh,” it was Scott that drawled out this time. “But you know how much we love to bug you!”

“And if you don’t take these, you ain’t getting your 100$! Get a move on, Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dee!”

Terry and Scott let out a laugh but left without further comment. I turned to Perry and gave him a big hug. “Good to see you, Elvis.”

“You too, Sars,” he held me out at arm’s length. “What did you need me to do?”

“Follow me.” I took Perry’s hand into mine and guided him to Mark’s bedroom. “Before we move the bed out, could you do me a favour and dismantle all of those sound cancelling panels? I’m going to set them up in Mark’s room back at my place. Figured it’ll come in handy once he starts playing games again.”

“Sure thing! Do you have a box I can put them in?”

I pointed at the biggest box I could find, which I left on the bed. “Way ahead of you.” He planted a kiss on my forehead and began his work.

“I’ll be back in a bit to check on you. Cassie and I are going to help the boys bring down the rest of the boxes. There is a lot that needs to be brought down.”

***

“All set?” I asked when I returned to Mark’s bedroom a half hour later. Of course, Perry had gotten everything down in record time. He had impressed again. Perry had taken down the panelling and went as far to remove the mattress and dismantle the bed frame but left his desk and dresser intact. They were going to have to be transported as a whole objects.

“Yup. Way ahead of you,” he winked at me and smirked.

“You’re the best.” I hung off the doorframe and called for the guys and Cassie to take the remaining things from Mark’s room out and down to the van. Once everything was set, I locked the door and set out for my car. Cassie followed me in her car and the guys in the moving van. They helped me unload all the boxes and set up all the furniture and move all my office equipment to the living room.

While Perry set up all the panels on the bedroom wall and Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dee set up the bed, Cassie and I washed his clothes, bed sheets, set up all the equipment and decorated his room a little with some fan art. Everything else was stored in the closet and out of sight. We put away his clothes, did up the bed and stored extra equipment in some store units on the shelves I had put up earlier in the day. It honestly wasn’t much but it was going to be a huge surprise for Mark and I hoped that this gesture would help him get back on his feet.

***

“Ok, thanks so much! I’ll see you guys later.” Perry, Terry, Scott, and Cassie all shoved out of the apartment at around twelve. It was Sunday and the bar would be closing any minute. I didn’t want them here when I showed Mark what we did. It might be a little overwhelming for him and I wanted him to take it all in stride.

Shortly after the quartet left, I heard a pair of familiar footfalls coming up the stairs and I froze. I tried to act normal and busied myself with the dishes my lovely idiots left me. The door closed with a low thud and Mark flung off his shoes. I could hear his approaching footsteps and he leaned his lower back against the counter. “Who were those guys? And why is all the stuff from your study in the living room.”

“Just some old friends from college—Perry, Scott and Terry. They helped me with some changes in the apartment,” I put the plate I was rinsing off onto the drying rack and dried my hands with a dish towel and turned to face him.

“What changes?” he asked, his head tilting to his left in curiosity.

I bit my lip while failing to suppress a smile. “Ok, close your eyes and give me your hand. I got a surprise for you.”

“Erm, ok?” Mark did as he was told and I laced my fingers with his. I felt a gentle spark at our touch and tried to hold back the shudder it gave me. He didn’t seem to notice, but I could see the corner of his lips twitch into a momentary smile. I led him quietly to his room, opened the door and took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth.

“Open your eyes,” I said quietly. He did and I said softly, “Surprise.”

He took one glance at the room, a momentary wonder in his eyes as he took everything in. But something unexpected happened: His eyes went dark and he looked at the ground, clenching his fists.

“How did you get all this?” he asked, his gaze avoiding the equipment I spent hours setting up.

I showed him the keys he gave me last night. “Mark… I knew who you were before I met you that first time… and I figured, in your time of need, that I could set up something that could help you on your way to getting better.”

But everything I said seemed to go right over his head when he asked:“Why the hell did you break into my apartment?” He said, his voice beginning to rise.

I took a cautious step back. “Break in? You wanted me to throw away the keys… I just thought that this would help you—playing video games and making videos. They always helped you bounce back when times got tough and I thought they could help you now—”

“Well, you thought wrong!” he bellowed, losing complete control. “I left that life behind me for a _reason_ and you brought it back to haunt my ass. There’s a reason why I drink, there’s a reason why I choose to forget and there’s nothing you can do to stop that. Stop trying to help me. You’re not Sophie. You can’t fix me. No one can fix me but me. I refused your help for a damn good reason.” He paused a moment. “So, you knew me from before, eh? You seemed to have forgotten to mention that. What do you want—some kind of reward? Fame? Money? Sex? You aren’t getting any of it, so don’t even think about asking. I thought I could get _away_ from that life; I thought I could get away and start anew. I thought you were different from the others… I guess I was wrong.”

That was it… I couldn’t handle it any more… After everything I did for him, all he could do was spit it all into my face. “Get out,” I said in a low tone, looking down at my feet and clenching my fists.

“What?” he said, his voice a little calmer.

I couldn’t hold back any more. “I SAID GET THE HELL OUT!” I screamed. I grabbed a vase and chucked it at him but he dodged it and the vase collided with the wall behind him. Hot tears began to spill over my cheeks. “Get out, get out, GET OUT!” I reached for something else to throw and grabbed an old picture frame. Mark reached out and grabbed both of my wrists. “Let go out me you selfish, ungrateful bastard!”

“Sarah, I’m sorry. Please calm down!”

“NO! I went out of my way to help you when I could’ve left you dressed in your own puke that night. Sure! I knew who you were but that doesn’t mean I was helping you because I wanted fame! I didn’t give a fuck about that. All I knew was that I had to help you—a person in need. That’s all I thought about. I didn’t want anything in return. I gave you a roof over your head, put food in your stomach, a job and someone to confide in. Hell, I even went out of my way to give you a space of your own so you didn’t have to sleep on the damn couch and so you could spend the wee hours of the night doing something that you loved. I thought we were becoming friends—I was starting to forget that you were some YouTube celebrity because I was getting to know the real you. I always liked you for you, not Markiplier. And how do you fucking repay me? You treat me like shit. There’s a reason why you’re like the way you are: You don’t let anyone in, you won’t let anyone help. I told you that you didn’t have to do this alone. But I guess you spat my kindness right back at me, same as everything else. Now get the hell out. I never want to see your God-damned face around here again.”

“But—”

“NO! Get out!” Mark let go of me and I fell to the floor, sobbing. I felt his hand on my shoulder and I flinched away from it. “Please, just leave… you clearly never wanted to be here anyway… just go.”

And without another word, he was gone.


	7. Old Man Take A Look At My Life; I'm a Lot Like You

Episode 6: Old Man Take A Look At My Life; I'm a Lot Like You

 

Perry’s POV:

 

The stars were absolutely gorgeous tonight—not that you could see them very well. Light pollution has got to be one of the most annoying things in world; it prevents you from seeing anything beautiful in the city. Regardless, if you had an eye for it, you could still see them through the shroud of smog and light pollution. Not very well, but the thought of something so beautiful hanging above your head never leaves your mind. I guess that’s why I enjoyed living in the country.

 

Of course, I don’t live in the middle of nowhere, more like the city’s outer limits. The air was crisper, there was barely any noise and the stars were gorgeous. It’s one of the bonuses of living farther from the city. You weren’t breathing most of the pollutants, so the air was crisp and fresh, and there was a beautiful view. You could easily see the lights of the city and that of the white orbs floating above you without the interference of the other. But no matter how I put it, you couldn’t possibly imagine what kind of beautiful it is. No picture can truly capture all the beauty of nature. You should see it for your own eyes—not through the camera lens.

 

Despite it all, though, I am still standing outside of  _O’Callaghan’s Pub and Billiards_ , trying to watch something I can barely see (in the chilly weather, to boot). I’m honestly not sure what had rooted me to the spot. There could be more than one possibility… but the one that stood out the most was the idea of making sure Sarah was ok. I had a funny feeling at the pit of my stomach that something was going to wrong. Then again, ever since the incident about a month ago, I never felt safe about leaving Sarah alone with a complete stranger. Although this Mark dude showed up a month ago, he was still a stranger to me and I didn’t very much like the idea of leaving them alone together.

 

So here I stand, waiting for the worse to happen.

 

It was another couple minutes before anything happened. I was about to get into my car and drive off when I heard shouting coming from one of the open windows. I only caught the end tail of it, though.

 

“…I thought we were becoming friends—I was starting to forget that you were some YouTube celebrity because I was getting to know the real you. I always liked you for you, not Markiplier. And how do you fucking repay me?” Sarah shouted with renewed vigor. “You treat me like shit. There’s a reason why you’re like the way you are: You don’t let anyone in, you won’t let anyone help. I told you that you didn’t have to do this alone. But I guess you spat my kindness right back at me, same as everything else. Now get the hell out. I never want to see your God-damned face around here again.”

 

“But—” Mark attempted

 

“NO! Get out!” there was a thump as something landed on the floor. “Please, just leave… you clearly never wanted to be here anyway… just go.” There was a pause before I heard the apartment door close. There was a longer silence before I heard the backdoor to the bar slam open and a pained cry pierced the air.

 

I slammed my car door and jogged through the alley to the back of the establishment. There I found a man slumped against the brick ball, his hands grabbing small fists filled with short hair. He let out a heavy, trembling sigh and removed his glasses to wipe the moisture escaping his eyes. Whatever happened up there hadn’t ended well.

 

When Mark hadn’t realized that I was there, I cleared my throat. “Hey, you ok buddy?”

 

“Does it honestly  _seem_  like I’m ok?” he mumbled. His eyes remained glued to the floor.

 

I chuckled uneasily and rubbed the back of my neck. “I suppose you aren’t. That was a stupid question.”

 

“Yeah, it kinda was but I doubt it was anything like the dick-ass move I pulled,” he sighed deeply again in attempt to steady his voice. “For the first time in a long time someone went out of their way to make me feel at home. What did I do to pay her back? Nothing. I did piss diddily all except to question her motives just because she knew who I really was. Maybe I had the right to. But why? Why the fuck did I have to go screw this up? Piss it!” Mark kicked the metal garbage can to his right, which made me jump a little. Mark was much bigger than I was. Sure, I had the advantage of height but I was a gangly son of a bitch. “If there was one time to make things right and say thank you, it was five minutes ago… and now I’ve lost my chance at a new start.”

 

“Whoever you’re talking about, I’m sure she’ll give you another chance,” I shrugged. “If she’s just as amazing as you say she is, chances are she’ll let you back into her life. Maybe she’ll give you another chance if you give her time.”

 

Mark chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, and what makes you the expert?”

 

“Well, I’m Sarah’s friend. She never shuts up about how amazing you are to her.”

 

Mark fell silent for a moment and pursed his lips into a straight line. “Great,” he said darkly. “ _Great._  I haven’t been gone for five minutes and she already has people on my ass. You know what?” Mark said turning to Sarah’s open window. “I’m done with you, your bar and your bullshit friends! You can just stay the hell away from me!”

 

I was taken aback by his sudden outburst. She had nothing to do with what I said—I acted on my own! “Mark, calm down. She has nothing to do with this conversation—”

“Fuck off, buddy!” Mark shoved past me and disappeared into the darkness.

 

Above me I heard a ghost of a voice calling my name before Sarah began to cry again.

 

“I’m on my way,” I answered.

 

***

 

Sarah’s POV: 

I can’t believe that Mark was gone… I mean, he was gone for good. My mind simply couldn’t comprehend his absence and that’s what made my cry even harder. These eyes haven’t shed so many tears since the night I lost my family. The tears flowed freely. My heart was shattered and I was wailing in pain.

 

I hope none of the neighbours thought I was dying—my windows were open and I didn’t have the willpower to drag myself off the ground to do anything about it. Matter of fact, I would be happy if I could just sit here on the floor for the rest of my life. I could become one of those hermits: I could live under a rock, wear some sort of loincloth thing, let my hair grow out, never take baths. And whenever kids came to close to my home, I would pop out, climb to the top of my rock and wave my cane at them, cackling loudly as I did so. Then, and only then, I wouldn’t have to deal with people. I’d just scare them off and that would be the end of that.

 

Perry, however, would never let me do that.

 

He walked slowly through the door and to where I was on the ground. The floorboards creek as Perry drew nearer. His weight shifted and I could feel is presence next time me. My eyes met his briefly and he frowned at the severe hurt he found there. There was no room for the usual smile they held. There was too much sorrow and hurt.

 

Slowly his arms snaked around me and he held me close to him as I continued to sob uncontrollably. My mind went back to the conversation Tony and I had before closing up the bar. Tony said that I had no idea what it was like to be heartbroken like he was… and I recall the sadness I felt that night: That sadness I felt was overshadowed by the pain pounding in my chest. That little bought of emotions was nothing like the pain I felt rippling through my chest. I did everything I could for him and all I got in return was his negativity and his foul words.

 

Perry wrapped his arms around even tighter around me and I leaned into him, breathing in his comforting scent. It calmed me down a little but the tears kept coming… and I had a feeling they would be until I finally exhausted myself into a sleep.

“Come on, Sarah,” he said softly. “Let’s get you to bed.” He wrapped his arm underneath my legs and kept the other around my waist and lifted me from the ground. But it felt all wrong… it wasn’t right. His arms weren’t big enough, he didn’t smell right and he didn’t hold me like Mark had. Perry struggled to carry me to my room where as Mark did it with a certain graceful ease, even after having had a few drinks together… when everything was simple and Mark was still here.

 

The tears began to flow with equal or more fervor as they had after Mark had yelled at me from the alley. It did nothing but make everything that much worse for me. I missed Mark despite his hurtful words. I missed his laugh, his smile, his caring nature and how he always knew the right thing to say when I was down in the dumps; I missed his smell and the way he held me in his arms when I was in pain or sad. All in all, I missed everything about him and he had only been gone for ten minutes… imagine what a few days could do to me.

 

Perry laid me down in bed and pulled the blankets over me. He wasn’t going to bother with removing my clothes—that would make everything worse. I could feel the bed shift with his added weight as he laid himself down in front of me and wrapped his arms around my shaking form. One of his hands soothed my hair. “Calm down, Sarah. It’ll be fine. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

 

“H-how will i-it be f-f-fine when e-everything I-I ever w-wanted i-i-is g-gg-gone?” I stuttered. “How… he’s gone… gone forever… because I t-told him to l-leave. It’s all my fault…”

 

“What happened?”

 

“He’s gone…” was all I could manage. “Tony was right… I didn’t know heartbreak until this happened.”

 

“What are you talking about, Sarah? What did Tony say?”

 

“You wouldn’t understand, Perr-y-y. Just leave it b-be.”

 

“Ok… just try to calm down, please. Breathe, Sarah Eileen. Breathe.”

 

Perry smoothed my hair and wiped the tears from my face; the uncertainty of how to proceed was written plainly on his face. He bit his lip and looked to the side in thought. I didn’t pay much attention to him but I snuggled a little closer to my best friend, not wanting to be alone. Perry took my head into his hands and placed a chaste kiss upon my forehead. He then held me a little closer and began to sing softly. Despite being twenty-one years old, a good voice and a soft song could lull me to sleep.

 

***

 

The next morning I woke up and felt like crap. My head was pounding, my eyes were still red and swollen from the endless tears, and my cheeks were dried up with the remainder of the tears that had fallen while I slept. On top of it all, I had that nightmare again… the one about my family dying in the fire. I couldn’t get myself to wake up and the nightmare repeated itself for the majority of the night. Mark’s face kept popping up in the flames and that made the loss of my family just that much more unbearable.

It was cruel.

 

I rubbed at the dried tears staining my face and looked around the room. Perry was still fast asleep beside me, his arm draped across my midsection protectively. At first glance he looked a little like Mark, which made me smile a little. However, when you took a closer look, the proportions were all wrong: His arms weren’t as big, his face was rounded, and he didn’t have the Asiatic features did. I frowned and looked the other way. My hand carefully lifted his arm off of me and I disentangled myself from Perry. It wasn’t good for me to be so close to someone after last night.

 

I sulked into the hallway, passing the room I had set up for Mark less than twenty-four hours ago. Something panged in my heart as I walked past and, without looking inside, I grabbed the knob and closed the door tightly shut, putting a close to that chapter in my life. My heart wasn’t ready for facing what happened yet and it was best to lock it away and revert back to my old life. It was best to forget about Mark entirely. And that’s what I was going to do.

 

My hands reached for the coffee cup on the top shelf and I placed it under the Keurig machine. Still tired, I fumbled the boxes in the cupboard until I found the Cherry Chip Swirl and put that into the machine, slamming the cover shut and hit the  _brew_  button. I waited for less than a minute and my cuppa was ready. The tendrils of steam reached my nose, bringing with them the sweet scent of cherries and chocolate. I took a sip of the hot liquid and didn’t flinch at the burning sensation as it ran across my tongue and to the back of my mouth.

 

It was scalding but delicious.

 

The feeling of the hot liquid gave me a distraction—not necessarily a good distraction, but a distraction that served its purpose for the moment. It was good to feel a pain that was real and upon my skin, not the one threatening to tear my heart in two. This honestly wasn’t the best coping mechanism but I sent the other one away. I didn’t know if I was ever going to see him again… and I didn’t know if I wanted to.

 

A heavy sigh escaped my lips and I plopped into the kitchen chair. What the hell am I going to do with myself now that Mark was gone? I gently put my mug onto the table and rested my head in my hands. The best option right now was to busy myself with the welfare of the bar. I’ve been away from it for about a month and I had no idea how it was faring. Tony and Cassie had insisted that they took care of all the financial crap while I was healing. It was the only thing I could’ve done to waste away the maddeningly  _long_  days alone in the apartment, but the two of them insisted that I took a break, mentally and physically, from work. In all honesty, I believe that I should’ve done everything but that. I needed something to keep me busy and on my feet and distracted from all the bullshit that my mind was stirring with.

 

Sitting alone the apartment for days on end was probably the worst part of my existence. It left me alone with all the memories I didn’t need. Most people say that after traumatic events, you should always do something to keep you occupied—and neither movies nor TV shows constitute as a proper way of distraction. Not to me, at least. I need to be physically doing something to get my mind off of what’s bothering me and away from the ghosts of the past, not sitting on my ass and watching the boob tube. And that’s when my mind was made up: I was going back to work.

 

My feet carried me hastily back to my room where I found Perry fast asleep. I jumped onto the bed and shook him awake. “Oi! Get up and out of my bed, Per!”

 

His eyes were wide and searching the bright room for me. “What the hell’s going on? And why are you in such a good mood?”

 

“No time to chat,” I said, shaking him continuously. “You just need to get out of my bed and out of the apartment. I have a mission and you need to get lost.”

 

“Ouch,” he yawned, shoving me to the opposite side of the bed. “I see the love.”

 

“You know I love you but get out.”

 

“Wait, what about the thing last night? What about Mark? You ok, Sars?”

 

“Yup yup yup! But you seriously need to get out, out,  _out!_ ”

 

Once Perry was out of bed, I guided him to the front door and shoved him out of it. Don’t worry, he didn’t fall downstairs. He’s just fine. Once there door was locked behind him, I pressed the back to the wood of the door and looked around the room for the answer of something to do… as if it would be plainly written on one of the walls. And then it dawned on me that I should probably get dressed into something decent before I actually went downstairs to get to work. Cassie and Tony would give me a hard time, but I needed to get out of this hell hole!

 

I hurried to my room where I pulled on a white v-neck t-shirt and some skinny jeans. My hands found the grey hoodie hanging off the back of my bedroom door and ran for the door. I was suddenly filled with a vigor that I hadn’t felt in the longest time and I couldn’t help but feel great about myself. Who needed Mark, anyway? I could get along just fine without that asshole.

 

It was time to start fresh.

 

***

 

Being back behind the bar was honestly the best thing that happened to me since the incident a month ago. Sure, it was uneasy at first but once some familiar faces popped by with a smile it was easy to get back into the rhythm of things. Within a couple of hours I was completely relaxed and talking freely with the patrons. Of course Cassie and Tony were very reluctant at first, especially after what they heard the other night between Mark and I. But they let me work regardless. I told them about my situation and they were ok with letting their boss back behind the counter.

 

I couldn’t have been happier.

 

However, tonight was still one of those slow nights during the middle of the week and things weren’t as upbeat as they usually were. The weather was getting colder outside and it was also a working night. That being said there weren’t many customers hanging out. It wasn’t until a familiar face walked in and saw the frown on my face as I continuously wiped down the counter that I spoke.

 

“Hey, darling. What’s got you in a muck?” I looked up and Bob was sitting at the bar.

 

I smiled kindly at him. “Good to see you. It’s been a while,” I answered him as I continued wiping down the bar. “How have you been holding up?”

 

“Oh, it’s been the same old, same old: Coming in every night, telling a few stories and making new acquaintances. I even made good friends with that handsome young feller you hired a couple of weeks ago. He was a hoot and a half. Very kind, too. Say, where did he wander off to?”

 

I froze and tried to push the thought of Mark out of my mind. Now was not the time to think about him. Not the time. “He, uh… Well, Mark quit the other day. He moved back to the opposite side of town and found a better job.” I hated lying to Bob but it was one of the only way to get him to drop the topic.

 

“Oh yeah? Sorry to hear that, hon… That is if I believed any of the words coming out of your mouth.”

 

Goddammit! Why was I so easy to read? “How do you always read me so well?”

 

“I know you well, Sarah. You’re like a daughter to me… and I can tell when you’re in love.”

 

“Please stop, Bob. Please… He left just last night and I don’t want to think about him.”

 

“Oh, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad, Sarah. Could it?”

 

“Yes, it was horrible…” I said wiping the tears from my face. “I was trying to make him comfortable while he stayed with me and Mark got mad. I lost it on him and now he’s gone.”

 

Bob sighed and ran a hand across his balding head. “You know, Sarah, sometimes these fights happen. It can get pretty bad, too. I would know. But if this guy’s smart, he’ll come back and apologize. Just you wait.”

“Bob, I don’t think he’s coming back,” I muttered. “I basically told the guy I hated him and to get the hell out of my life.”

 

“Charming girl like you, he’ll definitely come back for you. Come here, hon, give me a hug. If he doesn’t come back, he’s lost an amazing opportunity. You know that, right?”

I smiled into the hug that Bob so kindly gave me. “Yeah, I know.”

 

There was a moment of silence before Bob spoke again. He sighed and let a couple of words slip.

 

“Sarah, your situation with Mark, whatever it may be, reminds me a lot of a fight with my late wife,” Bob said softly. No one paid us any mind and went about their business. I took Bob by the hand and brought him to a private booth. Bob slid in beside me and wrapped a strong arm around my shoulder. “As I was saying, this situation reminds me a lot of a fight I had with my wife. It happened well before we were ever married. Anyway, I was about your age. I was young and in love. That being said, I was very insecure about everything going on. Cathy was trying to do a great many things for me and a lot of it I wasn’t…  _ready_  for. As in, it surprised me. I never had anyone do what she did for me and that made me scared.

 

“What if she’s cheating on me, I would ask myself. What if this is just all a sham and I’m being played? I turned to her and accused her of a lot of things… and we had a bad fight. She screamed and screamed at me, telling me how much of an ungrateful bastard I was being before she demanded I left. Before I knew it, I was practically grovelling at her feet, asking for forgiveness. The hurt I saw in her eyes made me realize that all she did was meant in good taste. If anything like that happened with Mark, Sarah, then he’ll be back. I sure was within the next couple of days. I loved Cathy with all I had and I did everything to get her back. Mark may not love you like you want him too… but he’ll soon realize how much you mean to him and he’ll be back.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“I know so. And if he doesn’t he’s the biggest idiot the world over.” Bob smiled at me and placed a kiss on my forehead.

 

“He already is and always has been,” I chuckled.

 

“That’s the spirit. That’s my girl.”


End file.
